


Finding Bliss

by ChatDuNoir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Coming Out, F/F, LGBTQ, Second Chances, Strained Relationships, finding yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-01-24 07:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 210,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21334201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChatDuNoir/pseuds/ChatDuNoir
Summary: The re-upload of "Finding Bliss" nobody asked for. You're welcome.
Relationships: Ella Benson/Bliss Edwards
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

”You’re stuck in a rut.”

I glared at Delia. I was annoyed, and mostly because she was right. Once again, my friend had hit the head on the nail.

But of course I wasn’t about to admit that so easily. 

“No, I’m not,” I denied. 

Delia scoffed and swirled the remains of her drink at the bottom of her glass. “Sure you are,” she said in that horrible “I know better than you”-tone. The tone I hated. And mainly because she always did know better than me. 

Still, I argued. 

“I’m not stuck in a rut,” I denied. “I’m fine.” 

“Yes. Exactly. You’re fine,” she said and scrunched up her nose in disdain at the word “fine”. 

“I am.” 

Delia downed the remains of her drink. “I’m sure you are, but is being fine the same as being happy?” 

Once again, she cut through my pathetic excuses and hit the head on the nail. She was right. Being fine wasn’t the same thing as being happy. 

I took a sip of my own drink and looked around in the living room. As though the answer was lurking somewhere in one of the nooks. 

Delia flashed me a triumphant smile. She knew that she had effectively found the essence of my problems. 

And yet I still wasn’t smart enough to abandon ship. “Alright, so I have been a little dissatisfied lately,” I admitted. “But it’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

“Will you?” Delia asked and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because to me, it sounds like you’re bored out of your mind.” 

“I’m not bored,” I foolishly denied and sighed as I looked at my best friend of twenty five years. Why was she always right? 

“You are,” she said firmly. “And I understand you. I do.” 

“I’m not-“ 

Delia glared at me and her green eyes gleamed dangerously. The denial died on my lips. 

Because she was absolutely right. I was bored. Out of my mind, as Delia had put it. And I probably had been for a while. I had just refused to admit it to myself. Truth was, that I had very little to do during the day. I made breakfast for my family. I tidied up in the house when Lucas was at school. But that was about it. Scrubbing the floors, watering the flowers and polishing every surface wasn’t enough to fill the empty hours. More often than not, I found myself sitting on the couch and staring blankly at either the television screen or my computer. For a while, I had made frequent trips to the library and borrowed lots and lots of books about all sorts of subjects, but that soon wore off too, and I was back at square one. Back in front of the laptop screen. 

“Have you talked to Stephen about this?” Delia asked and interrupted my train of thoughts. I could tell from the look on her face that she already knew the answer to that. 

“No,” I said. “I haven’t.” 

“And why not?” 

I shrugged. “I suppose the subject never came up.” 

I didn’t want to bother him with it. He was busy enough as it was with his many trips to Boston. 

And truthfully, I had found that him and I had less and less to talk about these days. It was probably because he was never home. But I tried not to think too much about that. Because the more I thought of it, the bitterer I became. And I didn’t want to become bitter. 

“So, you’re just going to sit quietly and wait for it to blow off? Is that it?” Delia asked. 

“Yes, that’s the general idea.” 

“Oh, Ella, Ella, Ella,” Delia said and poured both of us another drink. “We both know it’ll never work.” 

“I don’t know what else to do,” I admitted quietly. I had tried my best to downplay this whole thing, but I had an inkling that Delia knew exactly how bad it really was. And it was bad. Sometimes I swore I could feel my skin prick with boredom, and my pacing around in the house was beginning to bear some resemblance to how a trapped cat would walk around. 

A door opened and then closed and a moment later my son Lucas came into the hall. He was dragging his feet as usual. 

“Hi, honey. How was school?” I called, hoping to get more than two sentences for a reply. 

“It was fine.” 

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you a snack?” I asked. 

“No, thank you. I have some homework for tomorrow.” 

“Do you need my help with it?” I asked almost eagerly. 

“No thanks. I’m going upstairs.” 

Right of course. I could hear his heavy footsteps disappear up the stairs, and the door to his room was closed. He probably wouldn’t come out of there until dinner was ready. 

I sighed heavily. At thirteen years old, Lucas had reached an age where he needed me less and less, and I was starting to feel like nothing more than a convenience to him. And to Stephen. A cozy armchair they always could depend on. Always there when they needed it. 

And I was tired of feeling this way. 

I looked up and realized that Delia was looking at me. She was frowning slightly. She was worried about me. 

“I need to do something,” I said. “Something else than hoping my son will emerge from his room for longer than five minutes.” 

Delia smiled a little. “Well, then why don’t we put your laptop to good use?” 

“I’ve already watched three seasons of Downtown Abbey. I don’t think I can take anymore right now.” 

She chuckled at that. “No, Ella. Not Netflix. A hobby. An actual hobby. A few hours out of your house will do you good.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so,” she said firmly and sat her drink down. Then she was grabbing my laptop and opening it. She began tapping away on the keyboard and frowned slightly as she did so. 

I willingly put my fate in her hands. If anyone could think of a hobby, it was Delia. She’d had about a thousand different hobbies. True, she had tired of all of them, but never the less, she had tried new things. She had been braver than I. 

“Hmm, let’s see...” Delia said and frowned in pure concentration as she looked at my computer screen. “What about a cooking class?” 

I barked out a laugh. “No thanks. I’ve cooked for Stephen for twenty years. I think I know how to make a bouillabaisse.” 

“Fair point. How about computer programming them?” 

I groaned. “I like my computer, but not that much.” 

“Alright. Cross stitching, then?” 

I shook my head twice. “Absolutely not. I’m forty two, not sixty two.” 

“Creative writing?” 

“No. Writing isn’t my thing.” 

“Photographing?” 

“No.” 

“Flower arranging?” 

“I do plenty of that here. Going somewhere to arrange flowers would be pointless. I could just as well stay home and do that here.” 

“Genealogy?” 

“My great grandmother immigrated from Austria to Chesterton. That’s all the information I require about my ancestors.” 

Delia shot me a look of annoyance. “You’re not exactly making this easy for me, Ella.” 

I deflated. Now I felt a little bad about shooting her every suggestion down. “I’m sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea.” 

“No!” Delia barked. “I’m not giving up until I have reassurance that you get out of the house for at least a few hours.” She turned her attention back to the screen in front of her and resumed her search. 

I quelled a sigh. 

“Glassblowing?” she suggested. 

I just shook my head. No. Glassblowing wasn’t for me either. 

“Fishkeeping?” 

I almost snorted. “I really hope that was a joke.” 

“Don’t worry. It was.” 

“Thank god.” 

“How about pottery?” Delia suggested. “Maybe you and Stephen can reenact that scene from Ghost afterwards?”

This time, I did snort. “I don’t think that’s very likely to happen.” 

“So it’s a no to pottery?” 

“It’s a definite no to pottery,” I confirmed. I was starting to lose hope. There didn’t even exist a bloody hobby I could imagine participate in. 

Delia then suggested scrapbooking. I rejected that. I had already tried that. And it had only resulted in a terrible accident involving a stubborn glue gun. 

She suggested singing, and I told her that if I started taking singing lesson, Stephen and Lucas would probably kick me out of the house. Delia laughed heartedly at that, and then we stressed singing off our list. 

I shivered when she suggested taxidermy, and Delia was horrible enough to let me squirm for a few minutes before she let out another hearty laughter and revealed that she was merely joking. 

Yoga and origami was rejected as well, and I was on the brink of giving up and resign myself to a life filled with Netflix, but Delia’s stubbornness took over, and a few minutes later she smiled triumphantly as she said: “how about sketching?” 

“Sketching?” I echoed and felt myself perking up at that. I could actually see that happening. 

“That’s a great idea!” Delia said triumphantly, and her green eyes gleamed. “You used to sketch all the time.” 

“That was a long time ago.” I reminded her. 

“Yes, well, but you were talented. Everybody thought so.” 

I didn’t answer that. I had been dedicated to drawing once. Delia was right, I used to draw all the time. But then I had met and married Stephen. It had been a whirlwind romance, and at twenty two, I had been certain that this man was the answer to all my hopes and dreams. I had been deeply in love with him. I had quit my job. Why work when I could dedicate myself to be the best wife possible? And then   
I had gotten pregnant with Lucas. It was a very difficult pregnancy, so there wasn’t time for much else than lying in bed. And then Lucas was born. He was a colicky baby, so I had plenty to do. And things had been difficult. I’ve had trouble bonding with him. But things became better, and before I knew it, he was taking up whatever spare time I’d once had. Everything revolved around Lucas. Feeding Lucas. Bathing Lucas. Making sure Lucas was happy. Soothing every fever. Comforting him after every nightmare. And later, ensuring he got the best possible start in daycare. Then in kindergarten. And then in school. I had dedicated myself a hundredth percent to my son and his wellbeing. 

But now.... Lucas was thirteen years old. Moody and withdrawn. And so very certain that his mother was old and embarrassing. More and more, he preferred either his own or his friends’ company. Not mine. And as depressing that was, it also meant that I suddenly had a lot of free time. Long stretches of empty hours I didn’t know what to do with. Until now. 

“It takes place only a mile from here,” Delia said. “It’s a woman named Griselda Abbott who’s in charge of the class.” 

“Griselda?” I echoed and chuckled. 

“You have to sign up for this,” Delia said firmly. “It sounds perfect. It’s just a few people meeting to sketch a motive chosen by Mrs. Abbott. Sounds very relaxed, don’t you think? And it’s for everybody.   
Whether you’re a beginner or excellent like you.” 

“I don’t know...” I mused. It had been a while since I last had painted anything “serious”. 

She rolled her green eyes but otherwise ignored my comment. “If you don’t sign yourself up for this, I’ll sign you up.” 

“There’s no reason for that,” I chuckled. “Here. Give me the laptop. I’ll do it. When is the class?” 

Delia briefly glanced at the screen. “It’s... Tomorrow afternoon. Perfect. You don’t have any plans tomorrow afternoon, do you?” 

“You already know that I don’t,” I sighed. 

She handed me the laptop, and without looking much at the screen, I committed myself to the first lesson happening tomorrow, and after a bit of bullying from Delia, I ended up signing myself up for the   
lesson happening next week as well.

“There. Happy now?” I said as I closed the laptop again. 

“Very,” Delia grinned. “Atta girl. This calls for another drink.” 

“The things I do to get another drink,” I joked. 

Delia laughed as she poured us another drink and then clinked her glass with mine. “To your new hobby. All the big artists better watch out now.” 

“Let’s not go overboard immediately,” I said. But I nevertheless clinked my glass with hers. And I clung almost pathetically hard to the hope that reawakening my old passion would lead to something spectacular. 

Deep down, I knew that it probably wouldn’t, but for right now, I allowed myself to hope. Tomorrow I would get into my car, drive the short distance and then attend the lesson. I could always quiet if it wasn’t any good, a pessimistic little voice in the back of my head whispered. 

I took another sip of my drink and tried to banish the little voice from my mind. 

“This is going to be good for you, Ella,” Delia said and flashed me a smile. “I have a really good feeling about this. You’ve been cooped up in this house for too long. There’s more to life than doting on   
your thirteen year old and wait for your husband to come home.” 

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that.” 

She laughed shamelessly. “Only because you know I’m right, honey.” 

I took a sip of my drink and didn’t answer. Yes, I did know that she was right. And that was exactly the problem.


	2. Chapter Two

The next morning however, I had seconds thoughts. An arts class? Was that really something for me? Suppose the other attenders were a group of people younger than I? Suppose the other attenders were a group of people older than I? 

I sighed as I made breakfast for Lucas and tried to get more than three words out of him. I had always been a pessimistic individual, and today was no different. 

I was tempted to cancel the class right here and now, but I knew that Delia would murder me, so I tried to quell my pessimism for once. This would be good for me. A new experience. I needed to do something I didn’t do every day. Something unusual. 

“Pass me the orange juice,” Lucas said sullenly. 

“Here you go, honey. What’s your first lesson?” I asked. 

He rolled his eyes. “Gym.” 

“Oh. You like gym, don’t you?” 

“I suppose. When’s dad coming home?” 

“In a week,” I told him. 

Lucas blinked. “But he said he would be home to watch my game this Saturday!” 

I grimaced. Stephen had actually made that promise. How silly of him. He probably already knew then that he wouldn’t be able to make it. 

“I’m sorry, honey. He must have forgotten.” 

“Yeah. Right.” Lucas said. And he was sullen again. 

Anger and irritation flared up within me. Why couldn’t Stephen just either “man up” and tell Lucas that he wouldn’t be able to make it back home, or have the decency to actually come home and watch his sons’ game for once? I knew how important it was for Lucas to have his father there. All the other fathers were seeing the game. It wasn’t fair that Lucas should be different. 

I took a sip of my tea and tried to sound light and cheerful as I said: “maybe we could ask if Delia and Tom wants to come to the game! Couldn’t that be nice?”

“I guess so,” Lucas shrugged. 

He didn’t say anything else, but I was more than capable of finishing the sentence in my head. But I would rather have that dad could be here and watch the game.

I grinded my teeth and silently cursed Stephen just a little bit for this. When he got back home from Boston, he and I were gonna sit down and then we would have a talk about this. If he had made a promise to our son, he damn well had to follow through and actually come home. 

Lucas found his phone in his pocket, and I didn’t bother reminding him about the “no cellphones at the table”-rule. Silence fell over our little breakfast séance, and that prickling sense of being dissatisfied crept into my mind once more. I yearned for something. I yearned for change. For something to be different than it was yesterday. I longed for driving and driving and driving until I could see nothing but the sky and open fields. 

Knowing full well that I couldn’t do that, I settled for desperately wishing that the arts class later today would leave me with something. Would give me the sense of actually having accomplished something today. I so hoped that today’s lesson would prove me wrong. That it would turn out to be this wonderful, stimulating thing. A hobby I could really dive into headfirst. Something I would actually enjoy. 

“Mum?” 

“Yes, honey?” 

“I just said that I’ll be having dinner at Trevor’s today. Is that alright?” 

“Yes, of course. But just remember-“ 

“To do my homework. Yeah, I know,” he said and flashed me a rare smile. 

I instantly returned the smile. “It suits me fine that you’ll be at Trevor’s after school. I won’t be home.” 

“Where are you going?” he asked and frowned slightly. I rarely left the house during the day. 

“I’m going to an arts class,” I announced almost proudly. 

“Why?” he asked plainly, frown deepening. 

“Because... Because it’ll be good for me,” I said and repeated what Delia had said yesterday. “And because I need a hobby.” 

“I thought watching Downtown Abbey was your hobby?” 

I nearly cringed at that. “Yes, well, watching Netflix all day isn’t very stimulating. No. I need to get out of the house and be with other people.” 

“Okay,” Lucas said, and I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t understand it. 

“Do you want more to eat?” I offered. 

“No thanks. I better get going. Otherwise I’ll miss the bus. See you tonight, mum,” he said. He kissed my cheek once. Another rarity. And then he disappeared out of the floor. 

“Bye, honey. Have a nice day at school!” I called after him. 

He didn’t answer. He had already left. 

I sighed a little as I rose from my seat to clear the table. 

I felt oddly nervous as I later that day prepared myself for the arts class. I felt as though I was stepping out of my comfort zone, and I was seriously debating to not show up as I traded my “comfortable” pants for a tighter fitting pair of slacks. Why had I let Delia bully me into this? Why couldn’t I just say no? Why couldn’t I just be happy with another afternoon spend on the couch with a book or another episode of Downtown Abbey.

My jaw clenched slightly as I pulled my t-shirt over my head and found a plum colored silk blouse in the back of the closet. I couldn’t remember the last time I had last worn that blouse. It had probably been months. This wasn’t a blouse I normally wore. I always saved it for a special occasion. When had it last been a special occasion? When was the last time Stephen had taken me to dinner? My mouth twisted slightly as I buttoned the blouse. I couldn’t remember. It had been that long. 

I smoothened a hand over the blouse as to brush away any dust. That blouse had been stuffed away in the closet for quite a while. I padded through the bedroom, and my nylon stocking clad feet made a soft sound against the carpet. I settled down in front of the vanity and examined my face thoroughly and critically. There was a few lines here and there. Some of them deepened when I smiled, but apart from that, there wasn’t any serious wrinkles. Yet. Blue eyes that looked too big for my face. A hint of dark circles underneath them. I hadn’t slept well last night. I quickly applied some concealer to make up for it. It helped a little, but my eyes still looked dull. Lifeless, if you will. I looked, well.... Bored. I tried to keep as still as possible as I applied a bit of mascara to my lashes. When was the last time I had bothered to put on mascara? I couldn’t remember. 

Next were my lips. I put on some red lipstick. I should do that more often. I looked quite nice when I bothered to put on some makeup. I ran a comb through my hair and examined every lock as I did so. 

My hair was still honey blonde, but I was certain I could see few greying hairs here and there. A twinge of panic pinched my stomach. I wasn’t going grey already, was I? At forty two, that was definitely too early. 

My mother’s hair started greying when she was only forty three, but I tried not to think too much of that. 

I brushed my hair away from my face and then tied it back in a bun. As tidier one than the ones I used to parade around with in the house, but nevertheless a bun. Nothing new there. I sighed a little as I stepped into my high heels. I had changed my clothes. I had put on my nicest pair of slacks and my neatest blouse. I had combed my hair until it shone. And yet I looked exactly the same. The same old Ella. Nothing new. 

And I was sick of always being the same. I was tired of sitting in front of the television at night and then realize that another day had passed. I was tired of feeling that life just rushed past me without I could do anything about it. 

Something had to happen. I just didn’t know what exactly. 

My high heels clacked as I strode out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the hall where I found my purse and coat. If today’s arts-class turned out to be disappointing, I would search the internet to find something else. I was sick of sitting at home and waiting for an opportunity to present itself. Sometimes you had to seek out things yourself. Otherwise nothing would ever happen, and the thought of suddenly looking up from the laptop in ten years and realize that I was still exactly where I always was, was less than appealing. 

My steps echoed with determination as I wrapped the trench coat tightly around me and then left the house. 

**********************

The drive to the destination was a fairly short one. Took me only ten minutes or so. I had tried to be there as early as possible, but there was still a couple of cars parked when I arrived.

Realizing that I perhaps not was as early as I had hoped to be, I rushed when I exited the car. Tugging my old sketchbook under my arm and holding onto the pencils I had brought with me, I headed towards the building. I wondered what sort of motive Griselda Abbott had in mind. I was fairly decent when it came to landscapes and meadows, but my real force was painting people. Especially faces. There had been a time where I had been very good at that. And I had loved it. There had been a time where it had been my passion. The thing I lived and breathed for. Painting had been the first thing on my mind when I woke up, and the last thing I had thought about before falling asleep. And I had such plans. I wanted to be a real artist. I wanted to open an art gallery. As a young woman, I had travelled from London to New York to go to art school. Everything had gone smoothly. And then I had fallen in love with a fellow student. Stephen had been that student. But when I looked at him now, I couldn’t see the smooth talking young man anymore I had fallen head over heels for. The man I had married. 

But now was not the time to dwell on the past, I reminded myself as I found the right door and went inside. There was already a few people there. Some older than me, some younger. I was relieved. It looked like things were gonna be fairly even. 

An elderly woman smiled at me, and I guessed that was Griselda Abbott, the woman leading this class. I returned the smile. 

I found an available table and sat down. The chair was uncomfortable, I noted. We were gonna be here for two hours. They ought to find some better chairs. 

It seemed as though the other attenders knew each other, and there were brisk chatter around me as people found their seats. I found my sketchbook and brought out my pencil to be ready. That was the essence of today’s lesson. Working with pencil. Next week it would be acrylic on canvas. 

When everybody were seated, Griselda clapped her hands once. “Ahem! May I have your attention?” 

A few of the “students” laughed a little. 

Griselda ignored it and looked at us through her half-moon shaped glasses. “Welcome to this sketching lesson. Have everybody found their sketchbook? Good. And pencils? Excellent. In that case, let’s get to it. I’ll bring in today’s model then.” with that she left the room. 

Model? I was confused. I wasn’t aware that the motive was gonna be a real person. Had it said that on the website? I couldn’t remember. 

A bad habit I’d had years ago resurfaced and I gnawed lightly on the end of the pencil. When I realized I was doing it, I was immediately transported back to my eighteenth year where I would paint until three in the morning. 

After a moment or so, Griselda Abbott came back into the room, panting slightly under the weight of the chair she was carrying, and along with her, came a young woman. She had a mane of wild, black curls that spilled down her back, and she was dressed in a white robe. 

“Alright, today’s lesson will be consisting of two poses from our model,” Griselda Abbotts said and wiped her brow as she positioned the chair so that everybody could see it. “I will be here if you need any help or are having doubts about anything. You all know what to do?” 

There was a mumbled “yes” from a few of us. 

“Excellent. Let’s begin then,” Griselda said. She made a faint gesture to the model. 

The girl reacted to the gesture by disrobing and baring herself for the entire class to see. 

Clack. The pencil slipped from my hand and landed on the floor with a loud clatter. Everybody turned their heads and looked at me instead of the model. 

“Bloody hell,” I muttered as I quickly ducked and picked up the pencil. My eyes darted towards the door. Was it too late to leave? 

“Is there a problem, Mrs. Benson?” Griselda Abbott asked as she came over to me. 

“I... What sort of class is this?” I whispered and tried to look anywhere but at the model. 

“A life art class,” Griselda said plainly. 

“A... life art class,” I dully repeated. “I... I didn’t know that.” 

Griselda raised an eyebrow. “It’s written on our website, Mrs. Benson.” 

There were some snickers here and there. 

“I see.” I felt how I shrank completely in my uncomfortable chair. I hadn’t been paying much attention to what was written on the website. I had been so focused on just signing myself up to something. It had completely escaped my notice that the model was going to be naked. 

“Is there a problem?” Griselda repeated. 

Everybody, including the model was watching me. I felt horrible. “No,” I said and tried to sound confident. “There’s no problem.” Because there wasn’t. Except for me being a prude.

“Excellent. Let’s proceed then,” Griselda said briskly and moved to the very back of the room. 

The model sat down on the chair placed in the middle of the room. She crossed her ankles and placed her chin in her slightly cupped hand. Her wild curls spilled down her breasts as she did so. Clearly, that was the first “pose”. 

Everybody started sketching, and I brought the pencil down to the sketchbook and tried to do the same. Tried to see the model as a motive and not as a naked woman in the middle of a room full of people. At least her pose meant that I couldn’t see all that much of her body. And for that I was grateful. I glanced briefly at her. Took in her mocha colored skin, her wild, black curls, her chocolate brown eyes, her lips that had been painted red. My pen started scratching against the paper, and a moment later, the shape of her slowly came to life. I looked up at her again. She seemed completely relaxed. Comfortable in her nudity. Clearly it wasn’t the first time she tried this. 

A ridiculous twinge of jealousy flared within me. She didn’t appear to be a day over twenty. Everything about her oozed youthfulness and a well of opportunities. Imagine being twenty years old again. 

I banished the random thoughts from my mind and my pencil scratched against the paper once more as I did what I had come to do. Sketch. I outlined her shape. Drew her thighs, her arms, her face. The mass of wild curls that was spilling down her front. I blushed ridiculously as I carefully sketched what I could see of her breasts. God, what had I gotten myself into? A life art drawing class. That was not what I had expected. Had Delia known? I intended to call her afterwards and find out. And if it turned out that she did knew, I was going to give her hell for it. 

As we sketched, Griselda walked around between us to either encourage or leave a word of advice. When she reached my table, she said: “this is really good, Mrs. Benson.” 

“Thank you.” The art student within me was immensely proud. 

After an hour, Griselda announced that it was time for the model to switch pose. By that time, I was rather satisfied with how my first sketch of her had turned out. 

She switched pose. The chair was brought out of the way, and she moved to sit on the floor instead. She crossed her legs and brought one hand down to rest on her thigh. Then she turned her head just a little as though she was staring into the distance. 

This new pose meant that her breasts were exposed, and I was quick to look down at my sketchbook once more as I began drawing again. I could never do what she did. Baring myself to a room full of strangers. I found her to be quite brave. Quite confident. But of course, it was fairly easy to be confident when you were only twenty years old and every part of you were soft and smooth and unmarred by time. 

Bitterness doesn’t suit you, Ella, I reminded myself. I was supposed to view this as an experience. A way to get out of my comfort zone. Not compare myself to the model. My pencil strokes grew somewhat more determined as I drew her wild curls. 

I wasn’t just admiring her bravery. I was also admiring her patience. I wasn’t a very patient woman, and I couldn’t imagine having to sit still for so long. Maybe it was a way to unwind for her. Or maybe she just needed money. That had to be the motivator for being a life art model, right? Surely, she wasn’t doing this for free, was she? 

As the first wave of embarrassment faded, I felt that old excitement return. The old passion over sketching seeped from the pencil with each stroke over the paper. The model was coming alive on the paper in front of me. I was still good at sketching, and now I wondered why I had stopped drawing. Maybe this was something I could do for a few hours every day. Sit down and sketch. Maybe I could even turn the guest room into an impromptu studio. I glanced up at the model again. She was still sitting completely still. I added a few shadows to her face. A bit more detail to her stomach. A pity we weren’t working with watercolors today. I could really have done something with that. I caught myself looking forward to the next lesson. We were gonna work with watercolors on canvases then. A full portrait always did something a small drawing in a sketchbook couldn’t quite do.

It felt as though I had found the key to a room, I used to come in all the time. The old “Ella room”. The sketching room, where there was only room for me and my drawings. I was doing this for myself. I was finally drawing again. I couldn’t stop again. Time became a vague concept to me as my pen scratched against the paper again and again and again. I had momentarily forgotten about all the other obligations I had. 

“And... Time is up!” 

I nearly dropped my pencil for the second time that day and blinked in confusion as I looked up. Had the two hours already passed? No! Not yet! I could still find things to do with this sketch. 

But time was indeed up, the model shrugged her robe back on, and Griselda slipped out of the shadows to glance at each of our sketches. She wasn’t being overly critic, but still offered tips and tricks for the next time. Soon she reached my table, and her mouth curved up in a smile. 

“This is very good, Mrs. Benson. You’ve really captured our model!” she grabbed my sketchbook and held it up for the rest of the class to see. 

There was a faint muttering of praise. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Abbott,” I said politely and felt how I stiffened slightly. I didn’t like being singled out like this. And I wasn’t overly fond of praise either. 

She offered me a smile, put my sketchbook down and then said: 

“Thank you for today. I will see you all next week.” 

Noise erupted as everyone scrambled to stuff their belongings away. I too rose from my seat and shrugged my coat back on. Then I grabbed my pencils and sketchbook and left the room. 

*************

The moment I got back home and had discarded my coat, I called Delia. She answered the call after a few seconds. 

“Ella darling,” she greeted in her usual drawling way. “Let me guess... You got cold feet and didn’t go to the arts class anyway?” 

“I did go to the arts class,” I said slightly affronted at her accusation. “And I have a bone to pick with you, Delia.” 

“Oh?” 

“Did you know that it was a life arts class?” I hissed into the phone as I wiggled my feet out of the high heels. 

“A life arts class? Meaning that the model was-“

“Yes!” I hissed. “As naked as a jaybird. Did you know or didn’t you?” 

“I didn’t,” Delia said quickly, and then she started laughing. “As a jaybird, you say?” 

“This is not a laughing manner, Delia. I became so flustered I dropped my pencil!” 

“Poor, poor, Ella,” Delia teased. “But I’m glad you made it out of there alive and well.” 

“Very funny,” I grumbled as I plopped down on the couch. Now I had definitely earned the right to watch another episode of Downtown Abbey 

“Was it a man? Was he good looking?” 

Now I was the one laughing. This was so very Delia. “It was a woman. Sorry to disappoint you.” 

“Oh, well. Will you be going next week as well?” 

“Yes,” I said. “It was nice to sketch again after such a long time. I’ll just have to life with the fact that the model is naked.” 

Delia laughed shamelessly in the other end. Clearly, she found the thought of her friend completely flustered to be ever so amusing.

I wasn’t sharing her amusement.

Finally, Delia sobered up and got coherent enough to say that this was good for me. Getting out of my comfort zone and all that.


	3. Chapter Three

Over the weekend I began hesitating though. Painting a naked model wasn’t what I had expected, and nor was it what I had hoped for. To be honest, I had hoped for a landscape motive. 

But I didn’t dare to tell Delia that I was considering to chicken out. She’d be furious. And considering not to go was a bit ridiculous. Even for me. I couldn’t be so much of a prude that a nude model was holding me back. 

No, this was good for me. Getting out of the house was good for me. Getting out of my comfort zone was good for me.

So the next Tuesday I was ready and prepared. I brought out my own set of acrylics and stuffed them into my purse. Then I applied a dash of makeup to my face, combed my hair and rolled it into a bun. 

My preparation was met with a raised eyebrow from Lucas. He was not impressed. And he was still disappointed after yesterday’s football fiasco. I had indeed invited Delia and Tom to join us, and while it had been a nice day, Stephen’s presence had been severely lacking. Lucas was disappointed over his father. 

I was upset at my husband. Because once again, he had made promises he couldn’t keep. Once again, he had disappointed our son. I was used to it. Over the years, Stephen had taken his promises to me more and more lightly. I could take it. But it was different with Lucas. He was thirteen years old. He needed a father figure in his life, and it aggravated me that Stephen didn’t seem to understand that. Couldn’t he see that Lucas was getting more and more withdrawn? 

“I’ll have dinner at Trevor’s,” Lucas said and interrupted my train of bitter thoughts. He had miraculously enough chosen to come home from school and have lunch here. “You’ll be at your art thing anyway, so...” 

“It’s not an arts thing, sweetie. It’s a class,” I corrected him, and self-consciously patted my hair. I was sure there were a few loose strands here and there. 

“Whatever.” 

“Lucas,” I frowned. 

“Sorry, mum,” he amended, but he didn’t sound genuinely sorry. 

I let out a small sigh as I decided to just let it go. I knew it wasn’t really me he was angry at. It was Stephen. And I didn’t have time for this. I had to change. I had been wearing my “comfortable” pants all day, and I really couldn’t go to an arts class in those. 

I left him to his sullen behavior and went upstairs. I closed the door and the traded my shapeless, loose pants for a pair of nylon stockings, a skirt that ended just below my knees, and a crisp, white blouse so stiff I could barely button it. Found a navy colored silk scarf in the closet. It matched the skirt perfectly. I tied the scarf around my neck. Last time, the room had been a bit chilly, and I didn’t want to end up with a sore throat. I glanced at my reflection. I found that I looked rather presentable, but... I chuckled quietly to myself. 

If Delia was here, she would scoff and then shake her head. I knew what she thought of my style. According to her, I was “dressing like an old lady”. I usually laughed and pointed out that I was well on the way to becoming just that. She didn’t like when I said that. She claimed that forty two “was the new twenty two”. 

I didn’t agree with her. Not at all. But it was sweet of her to say it nevertheless. 

I perched myself on the edge of the bed as I wiggled my feet into my high heels. I would have to start wear those more around the house. It felt like my feet were expanding because I usually walked around in slippers all day. The bed creaked slightly. Maybe it needed replacement. I noted that Stephen’s side of the bed felt cold. That wasn’t so surprising. He hadn’t been home for almost three weeks now. 

I quelled a sigh as I stood from the bed and left the bedroom again. 

Downstairs, Lucas was still nibbling on the sandwich I had made for him, and he was completely consumed by the comic book in front of him. 

“Is that Wolverine again?” I asked as I reached out and ruffled his blonde hair. He had inherited that color from me. 

“Mum.” He said in that flat tone he always used when he found me to be irritating or annoying. He had used that tone a lot lately. 

I quelled another sigh. “Do you want me to give you a lift to Trevor’s?” 

“No, I think I’ll walk,” he said and rose from the chair. 

“Alright. Do you have your phone?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, mum. I have my phone.” 

“What time are you coming home? I could swing past on my way home and-“ 

“No, mum, I’ll just... send you a text when I’m coming home, alright? You don’t have to pick me up.” 

“I don’t want you to walk home alone after dark.” 

Another eyeroll. “Then I’ll ask Trevor’s dad to drive me home. Stop worrying so much all the time.” 

“Okay. Then text me when you know what time you’ll be home.” 

“I will. See you later,” he mumbled as he left the kitchen. 

“See you,” I called. 

No answer. He had probably already popped his headphones on.

I had about ten minutes before I had to leave. I settled down in front of the kitchen table. Found my phone in the pocket of my skirt and told myself that I was checking the news, but in reality, my thoughts drifted, and I didn’t read anything. 

I was worried about Lucas and his sullenness. I knew that his age meant something in that regard, but lately it had gotten worse and worse. He wouldn’t talk to me. If I asked him a question, he would either roll his eyes and not answer me, or grimace as he gave me a one word answer. It was like I couldn’t reach him. He wouldn’t let me in. 

It felt like he was somehow punishing me for Stephen’s absence. But I had no influence on that. I never had. 

A message from Delia popped up on my screen. She wished me good luck with the arts-class today. I considered to tell her that I had considered to blow it off. Just to annoy her. But I decided not to. If I did, she would most likely call me and screech at me until I did her bidding. She was very good at making people do her bidding. Including her husband Tom. She had met Tom four years ago after a string of failed relationship. But with Tom, she had really hit the jackpot. After four years, they still acted as though they had only just started dating. I was slightly envious of that. I didn’t know how they managed to keep that glow alive. The way they looked at each other.... 

I couldn’t remember the last time Stephen had given me such a look. Certainly not recently. 

The alarm I had added to my phone as a reminder, went off, and I stopped texting Delia. It was time to leave. It was time to get out of the house. I was looking more forward to it than I should. I pathetically clung to this arts lesson. Was proud when I thought of it as my new/old hobby. “Hobby” sounded good. Prettier than admitting the truth to myself:

That I was a bored housewife, desperate for something to fill my day with. 

I hopped into the car and drove towards my destination. Mrs. Galveston, our neighbor jogged past me and waved. 

I waved back and smiled at her. Jogging. Maybe that was an idea. Perhaps I could try that sometimes. Jogging and painting class. Something that was healthy for my brain, and something that was healthy for my body. Yes. I would definitely consider jogging. 

I met a few more of our neighbors on the way. I was quite familiar with the people who lived here in Shelburne, Vermont. I had lived here for thirteen years now. Stephen and I had lived in New York, but when I got pregnant with Lucas, it had been Stephen’s suggestion to re-locate. And it was also him who had suggested Shelburne. It was the perfect place to raise children, he said. 

I had willingly agreed to it. Had found that it was a wonderful idea. I wanted to give our child stability and a safe neighborhood to grow up in. 

But a few years back, I had started to think more and more about New York. I had been happy in New York. Of course, I was happy here as well, but it was a different kind of happy. And Delia was still frequently visiting New York. She could never leave the many coffee shops behind, she said. She and Tom lived in Montpelier, and she had warned me about leaving New York. She said that I would wake up one day and regret it. 

She was right. More and more, I thought about the life I’d had in New York. Our little apartment, my cramped studio filled with paintings. 

Now the little apartment had been replaced with a white four bedroom suburban house. The studio was gone and had been replaced with a spacious pantry. There had been a time where I had loved the house. There had been a time where living in that house, raising our child had been everything I had ever dreamed about. 

But something had changed. I had changed. Or Stephen had changed. Or we had both changed. I wasn’t sure of the exact reason, but along the way, something had shifted. Lucas had grown older, and Stephen and I had gradually started to grow apart. The words between us had become less and less. At first, I had told myself that it was because we knew each other so well. We didn’t need words to know what the other was thinking or feeling. 

But deep down, I knew that that wasn’t the case. The truth was, that I struggled to find something to say to Stephen. It was an evil spiral. When he wasn’t home, I was blaming him for being an absent father and husband, and when he was here, I didn’t know what to say to him. It felt like he was growing to be more and more of a stranger with each time he went away to Boston on business.   
And I didn’t know how to solve this problem. Stephen was often tired when he came back from Boston. He needed the time to unwind from his stressful job, not being “attacked” the moment he sat foot in the house. At least that was what he always said. 

Relieved seeped through me as I pulled up in front of the art school. After mulling over such dark things in the car, this felt like pure therapy. This was my time. My opportunity to wind down in front of a canvas. Relaxing as I created. I felt light as I exited the car and walked towards the building. I should have thought of this myself. Thank god for Delia. Thank god, she was smarter than I. Thank god she had bullied me into doing this. I chuckled a little to myself. 

There was already a little group when I entered the room. One of the younger artists smiled at me. “Hi, Mrs. Benson.” 

“Ella,” I corrected. “Mrs. Benson is my mother in law.” And being compared to her wasn’t particularly nice. 

He chuckled. “Ella. Ready to paint?” 

“More than ready,” I said earnestly as I found “my” chair. Today, a blank canvas had been positioned in front of it. Today was canvas and watercolor day. I didn’t mind that. Canvas gave the opportunity to   
do something else. Add a bit more detail. It had been a long time since I had last painted on a canvas. 

A few minutes later, the rest of the artists arrived along with Griselda Abbott and the life model. Griselda clapped her hands and cleared her throat: “Ahem! Good afternoon, painters.” 

“Good afternoon, Griselda,” we all echoed. Like school children. I choked down a chuckle. 

“Is everyone ready to paint?” she asked.

A chorus of “yes’s” echoed through the room. I reached within my purse and found my pre-mixed acrylic colors. 

“In that case, please find your seats and let’s get started. We only have two hours. Our model will only do one pose today, that should give all of you plenty of opportunity to really throw yourselves into this painting. Play with details and such.” 

She finished her little speech, and we all scrambled to find our seats. I held my paintbrush ready and prepared. 

Griselda signalized to the model, and she disrobed like she had the last time and revealed her nude body. She then lied down on the chaise that had been brought in today. She positioned herself on her side, so she was facing her audience. She seemed completely relaxed, and once again, I quietly found her to be brave. Imagine being so confident.

She had tied a baby blue colored scarf with sunflowers printed onto the fabric loosely around her hair. Probably in an attempt to keep her wild curls in place, but it didn’t really work. Her hair was exactly as big and untamed as the last time. No scarf could hold it back. It probably didn’t matter how tight she tied it. 

I dipped a paintbrush in the glass of water and then in the painting. And then I began painting. The paintbrush easily slid over the canvas as I did the first stroke that would hopefully become the model who was lying on the chaise. 

Like at the previous lesson, time became a vague concept. Something I didn’t pay attention to as I painted. There were occasional mutters around me, but I had no problem with blocking it out. I was back in my own little world. A world where others weren’t welcome. I was a hundredth percent focused, and I frowned slightly as I studied the models face intensely. I wanted to capture her. I wanted this portrait to be good. I dipped the paintbrush in the palette once more as I added some detail to her mocha colored skin, outlined her long legs, painted the way her ankles were crossed. Her toenails were painted yellow, and a complicated shade too. It took a few attempts before I hit the exact color. Yellow nail polish. Bold choice. I couldn’t imagine ever wearing yellow nail polish. The only color I ever wore, was nude. 

Painting a nude model was still unfamiliar for me. It wasn’t something I had dabbled in when I went to art school, but I tried not to let it get to me, and more importantly, I tried not to be embarrassed as I started to shape her breasts on my canvas. I had to objectify her. Treat her like she was a landscape. 

With secure strokes, I started to “sculp” her stomach. Her incredibly flat stomach. Unmarked by time. To be twenty years old again. There was that odd jealousy again. It was silly, but impossible not to be ever so slightly envious when everything about her oozed youth. That was what I would bring to life in this painting. Her youthfulness. A red gemstone was shimmering in her belly button. I hadn’t noticed that the previous time. I had most likely been too flustered to pick up on it, but now I quickly added that little detail to my painting. Embarrassment almost won over me as I started to paint the junction of her thighs. Her legs were slightly parted. Not enough to leave everything on display, but still enough for everyone to see. I felt ridiculous over being embarrassed about this. Could almost feel how my cheeks flushed. Then I grinded my teeth and asked myself to snap out of it. It was silly. This was simply art. I was in a room full of artists. All of us were painting the same motive. We were all professionals here. I just had to get used to it. I simply had to keep challenging myself. This was good for me, I reminded myself. I was a grown woman. There was no reason as to why I should feel squeamish over painting a naked woman. She is just a motive, I reminded myself. Just a different type of landscape and nothing more. Plain and simple.

I turned my attention to her hands. She had slender hands. Long fingers. And her fingernails were painted yellow as well. But not quite the same shade as her toenails. Almost honey golden. Interesting. And once again, bold. It was bold of her not to wear the same shade. Did she want to stick out, or was it a mistake on her part? Had she been in a hurry when she painted her fingernails and only afterwards discovered that the colors didn’t match? Or had she perhaps painted her fingernails first and then her toenails afterwards? 

My paintbrush scratched lightly against the canvas as I detailed my painting. For fun or not, I took this lesson very seriously. As seriously as I had taken art school. I wanted this painting to be just right. I wanted it to match reality. To look exactly like the real model lying on the chaise. She had to be recognizable. My fingers were almost trembling as they gripped onto the paintbrush. I couldn’t remember the last time I had thrown myself so wholeheartedly into a portrait.

Next to me, the man I had spoken to earlier dropped his paintbrush on the floor. It landed with a slight clatter. I registered the sound, but only as a slight irritation. Faintly. I was much too focused on what I was doing to pay real attention to the disturbance. 

I suddenly picked up how the effort had made me feel slightly warm underneath my crisp, white blouse. I would wear something else the next time. Something more relaxed.   
Scratch-scratch-scratch. Paintbrush against canvas. The sound was music to my ears, and only now I realized how much I had missed that sound. That idea I’d had about transforming the guest room into a studio re-entered my mind. Maybe I would really do it. 

But now was not the time to consider that. No, this time was dedicated entirely to the portrait in front of me.

That was her body taken care of. The easiest part was done. I had painted people before (clothed people), and I had always found it easier to paint bodies. Faces was something else. That was slightly trickier, but often the part I enjoyed the most. And this model had what artists called an “interesting face”. I squinted slightly as I painted her lips. She had very full lips that almost pouted a little when she relaxed her face. No lipstick today. Next was her nose. That was fairly uncomplicated. Not too big, not too small, but just right. 

The real challenge was her eyes. It was difficult to get the color just right. That warm, coffee color. And then there was the look in her eyes. That was difficult too. She had a very special look in her eyes as she laid there and gazed into nothingness. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how she managed to keep that look in her eyes during the entire class. I would have ended up looking bored, or on the brink of falling asleep, but she didn’t. She looked almost tranquil. Like she was in the middle of some sort of wonderful daydream and only vaguely aware that we were here.

Once again, I felt slightly envious of her. Imagine feeling that relaxed. That calm. I would be a bundle of nerves if I were lying naked in a room full of people painting me.

“And.... I’m afraid we’re out of time, painters!”

Like the last time, I was almost startled at Griselda’s voice. And then I was stunned. How could time have gone by so quickly? And how could I not have noticed Griselda skulking around right behind me? 

I had been so completely consumed by the painting in front of me. Everything else had just disappeared. Even now, I was distrait and only vaguely aware that the model rose from her position and slipped her robe back on.

Griselda walked around between us and commented on every portrait. When she reached my picture, she flashed me a smile. “Impressive like the last time, Mrs. Benson. Where have you studied art?”

“Parsons School of Design,” I answered. 

“I thought so,” the elderly woman smiled at me. 

I returned the smile, but it felt a bit forced. Mostly because talking about my old school made me miss that time. The environment. The lessons. The opportunity to hang around other art students all the time. 

“Alright, next lesson will take place in a week,” Griselda said. “And our website has chosen today of all days to shut down, so if you’re planning on attending, I’m going to have to see some raised hands.” 

My hand immediately flew into the air. Along with several others. We were many who wanted to attend the next lesson. 

Griselda carefully scribbled down each of our names on a piece of paper. “Excellent. Next time we’ll work with pastel colors. Make sure to bring your sketchbooks again. You are going to need those.” 

With that she concluded the lesson, and there was nothing more to do than head for the door. Along with the rest of the art lovers, I steered towards the door, but Griselda called me back:

“Oh, Mrs. Benson? Do you have a moment to spare?” 

I quickly turned around. “Yes, Mrs. Abbott?” 

“Would you mind if I framed this and put it up on the wall?” she asked and gestured to my painting. “This is very good, and it’s our normal procedure to frame the best painting.” 

“Oh.” I felt ridiculously honored at that. “No, I wouldn’t mind that at all. Just go ahead.” 

“Thank you,” she said and flashed me a smile. “See you at the next lesson.” 

“Yes. See you,” I confirmed. 

I felt completely uplifted as I drove home. I’ve had a very good painting day. And I had another lesson next week. Delia was going to be so proud of me. 

But I wasn’t doing this for Delia. No, I could feel that this was really giving me something. I was happier. And I kept telling myself that my high spirit was bound to rub off on Lucas. He would sense my good mood. 

Maybe I would even give Stephen a call later tonight. I knew he had been attending a conference for most of the week. He’d be happy to hear from us. To be updated on how we were doing. 

But I wasn’t gonna tell him about the art classes. I wasn’t afraid that he would disapprove, but to him, it would be money spent unnecessarily, and I’d had that battle with him far too many times already. It wasn’t up to him to decide how I spent my money. 

As I drove back towards our house, I switched the radio on and even hummed along to a silly little song playing. I was feeling excellent. And I hadn’t had a bite to eat before I left. Now I realized that I was hungry. In fact my stomach was growling. 

I chuckled. I hadn’t even noticed that I was hungry until now. Like everything else, food had become completely unnecessary. The only thing that had been important was the painting. 

The painting. Coming to think about it, my clothes smelled faintly of paint. I would have to wash all of it when I returned home. 

I chuckled again. Not even that was enough to puncture my good mood. 

I switched the volume up slightly, and my voice got louder as well. I could almost imagine how Lucas would grimace if he was here and could hear his old mom sing along to the radio and try to be “cool”. 

Maybe I wasn’t “cool”, but I certainly felt much better than I had done in a long time. 

Maybe even happy. I would have to text Delia and thank her for bullying me into doing this. Because this could very well be one of the best things, I had done for myself in a very long time.

For the first time in a long time, my first impulse when returning home wasn’t to rush into the living room and switch on the television. No, after I had traded my clothes for a bathrobe and taken off my shoes, my first impulse was to paint. And the impulse was so strong, I ended up sitting at the kitchen table and sketching random landscapes until my stomach growled again and I remembered how hungry I was. 

I laughed to myself as I opened the fridge to find something edible. I felt exactly like the art student I had been long ago....


	4. Chapter Four

Stephen came home that weekend. From Friday to Sunday. Then he was going back to Boston again. 

He arrived home late Friday night. Lucas was in bed, but I was still up and sitting in front of the laptop where I was googling paintbrushes. The ones at free disposal at the art class were fine, but I was dreaming of owning some that were a bit better. A bit fancier. I had thrown out most of my old paintbrushes because I thought that I would never need them again. After Lucas had been born, I had gone through a post-natal depression. I hadn’t been in the mood for anything. Certainly not painting. 

But now I was bitterly regretting that decision. How could I have been so stupid? My paintbrushes. My old paintbrushes I had spent so much money on when I was younger. What on earth had possessed me to throw them out? 

I was re-discovering one of my old passions. The old passion. The thing that once had been the greatest source of joy in my life. The thing that had kept me going. The thing that had kept me up at night. Either thinking about painting or refusing to go to bed and paint instead. There had been a point where my fingers had cramped because I had been sketching all day. I had to take painkillers for it, but I had found it to be incredible amusing. I could still remember how I had laughed at the absurdity in it. I had laughed a lot back then.

Perhaps I should buy some new pencils as well. The ones I could borrow at the art class were fine, but a bit old. I could buy some new ones. Many different colors as well. And a new sketchbook. I was going to need that. Coming to the art class and painting every Tuesday wasn’t gonna be enough. I needed more. I craved more. I wanted to draw at home as well. And not just on sheets of paper I found lying here and there. Those would end up being thrown out by accident. I needed a proper sketchbook. A professional one. Like the many sketchbooks I had owned during my college time. 

Maybe I could even buy an easel as well. And a few canvases. And a color palette. I would need that too. My gaze wandered towards the stairs. The guestroom was placed right next to the bedroom. We didn’t have much use for the guestroom. Transforming it into a studio would be the easiest thing in the world. I just needed to move the bed out, buy a high chair and an easel and that was it. Maybe I would re-paint the wall. Right now, the wall was white. Not a very inspiring color. Art needed inspiration to flourish. Maybe a bright purple color on the wall could help with that.

As I sat there in front of the laptop and googled, I could see it happen. I could see the guest room transformed into the best impromptu studio a painter could ask for. And I could see myself. In a white overcoat, a scarf tied around my hair, glasses perched on my nose and the paintbrush ready and prepared in my hand. I could go back to that time where I had loved painting, couldn’t I? 

My musings were interrupted when I heard the clicking sound of a key being inserted. I looked up from the laptop just in time to see the door being opened and then closed. A moment later, I heard the familiar sound of a coat being taken off, and then soft cursing when it ended up on the floor instead of on the rack. The sound of a suitcase being dragged over the floor.

Stephen was home. 

I shut down both Google and Pinterest where I had been looking for studio inspiration. I was closing the laptop and silently counting the seconds until... 

“Ella?” 

“In the kitchen,” I called and took a sip of my tea. I grimaced. The tea had gone cold. I had forgotten all about it. I had been so consumed with googling. 

Stephen stepped into the kitchen with his suitcase in hand, and I could immediately tell that he was tired. His blue eyes were almost a bit glazed, and there were dark circles underneath them. 

“Oh. You’re still up,” he observed.

I nodded. “Would you like some tea? I think there’s still some left...” 

“No thank you,” he wrinkled his nose. “It’s still beyond me how you can drink that stuff.” 

“Some coffee then?” I offered and ignored that little remark. He was just tired.

“No, not this close to bedtime,” he said. He was looking at his suitcase in that particular way that revealed that he had no intention of unpacking right now. 

“Welcome home,” I said and took a small sip of my cold tea. “How was Boston?” 

“Very stressful,” he complained and rubbed a hand over his cheek. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, I could tell. “And for no apparent reason. It was Rasmussen who kept cocking it up.” 

“What was the exact problem?” I asked. I had heard this a million times already. Stephen never came home and was happy. In fact I couldn’t remember the last time I had heard him express joy over his work. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to bore you with it,” Stephen said. He dragged his feet as he went over to the sink and poured himself a large glass of water. 

“I think you need to have a little chat with Lucas,” I said. “He was... Quite disappointed that you didn’t made it to his game.”

“Delia and Tom were there.” 

“That’s hardly the same.” 

“Alright, I’ll have a talk with him,” Stephen snapped. “But I’d be grateful if you didn’t dump this on me the minute I step inside the house, Ella.” 

And when am I supposed to dump it on you, then? He was rarely here. It was very difficult to communicate, let alone “dump” things on him when he wasn’t here. 

“That wasn’t my intention,” I said and felt how my jaw tensed. “I’m just saying that I’m worried about our son. He’s been so moody lately.” 

“He’s a teenager. He’ll come around,” Stephen easily dismissed my concern. He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to bed. It’s past twelve.” 

“Alright.” 

He moved towards the stairs, but halfway there, he paused and turned around. 

“I’ll be along in a moment,” I said. “I just have to switch the lights off.” 

He more dragged himself up the stairs than he walked, really. The staircase creaked. A moment later, I heard the door to the bathroom open and close. Water running. The sound of a toothbrush. The crooked floorboard in the upstairs hallway creaked slightly, revealing that he was now on the way back to the bedroom. A door was shut, and then silence. 

I was left with a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. He had barely greeted me. He hadn’t asked me anything. Hadn’t inquired what I had been doing while he was away. Was he just tired, or just plain uninterested? 

I wasn’t quite brave enough to ask myself that question. Let alone answer it. 

I glanced at the closed laptop in front of me. It wouldn’t hurt if I went back to my previous google search. Stephen wouldn’t be any the wiser. He was probably already asleep. 

But then again, it was getting rather late, and I wanted to resemble a well-functioning human tomorrow morning as well. 

With a sigh I rose from my chair. Went over to the sink and chugged the tea away. Put the cup in the dishwasher. I left the laptop on the dining table as I went into the hall to check if Stephen had remembered to lock the door. He hadn’t. I quickly locked the front door, and then I did what I had said I would do. Switched off the lights. 

I decided to just leave the laptop where it was. I had an inkling I was going to need it tomorrow. 

Then I went upstairs and into the bathroom. The room was still full of steam, and Stephen had forgotten to put the towel in the laundry basket. Instead he had left the wet towel on the floor. Snappy and forgetful. He’d clearly had a few rough weeks in Boston. I pursed my lips slightly as I picked the wet towel up and dumped it in the laundry basket. At least he had left his clothes in it. His other clothing would probably need washing as well. He wasn’t very good at remembering to wash it while he was in Boston. He was too busy at work. Tomorrow was clearly gonna be a laundry day. Perhaps I should have moved the laptop from the dining table anyway. 

I brushed my teeth for longer than required. Then I realized that I was zoning out in the middle of my task, and I quickly spat the toothpaste into the sink. I wiped my face of what little makeup I had been wearing that day, and then I gave my hair a quick brushing and then, as I was about to leave the bathroom, I realized that water was pooling in the shower. Stephen had clearly forgotten to mop it up. Or perhaps the shower drain was clogged again. Either way, I couldn’t leave the bathroom looking like that. It would leave an awful smell in here, and the walls could potentially end up going moldy. I mopped up the water and then reminded myself to call someone about the clogged shower drain come Monday. The drain was obviously clogged again. For the fourth time within three years. 

I sighed a little as I finally was able to conclude my time spent in the bathroom. Now I just wanted to go to bed.

Stephen was of course asleep when I entered the bedroom. He was snoring quietly, and his mouth was slightly agape. It was good that he was resting after the plane ride and then the drive here. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I unbuttoned my blouse, wiggled out of my slacks and freed myself from the nylon stockings I had been wearing that day. I unclasped my bra and then folded the discarded clothes and stuffed it into the closet. I didn’t need to consider my choice of nightwear for long. I chose the navy pajama with the black buttons. The one I always wore to bed. 

I shoved the covers aside slightly, and then I slid into bed. The bed creaked slightly, but the disturbance didn’t wake Stephen. His only response was to roll onto his side. His mouth was still slightly agape, and his breathing calm. 

I turned my head and looked at him. He looked so peaceful like this. Younger somehow. Not that these past twenty one years had been very unkind to him. He was still a rather handsome man. Grey at the temples, but handsome. If he hadn’t looked so peaceful, I could have found a way to welcome him home. I could have snuck an arm around him. Whispered in his ear. Wiggled a hand beneath the duvet. 

When was the last time Stephen and I had made love? I couldn’t remember that either. Another thing we hadn’t done lately. But that was partially my fault, I knew that. Lately, the urge hadn’t been enormous, despite my half-hearted considerations, and I was terrified because I assumed that I was going through menopause. 

Next to me, Stephen made a grunting sound in his sleep. I should be asleep too. I was tired. That was what had brought on this train of bitter thoughts. I would probably feel better tomorrow.

I grabbed a fistful of the covers, slid closer to my husband and then did my utmost to fall asleep quickly. 

********

Stephen was still asleep when I woke up and climbed out of bed the next morning. I decided to just let him sleep. He liked to sleep a little longer when he was home. I shrugged a robe over my pajamas and then padded downstairs. 

I found Lucas in the living room where he was watching some sort of show on Netflix. 

“Good morning honey,” I greeted. 

“Morning. Did dad come home last night?” 

“He did. He’s still asleep, but I’m sure he’ll come downstairs soon.” 

“Okay,” Lucas said. Just that. But I could sense the disappointment. Once again, I felt slightly frustrated with my husband. He could have peeked into Lucas’ room last night. Just to say hello to his son. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” I asked. 

Lucas shrugged. His eyes was still plastered to whatever show he was watching. 

“Pancakes?” I suggested with a smile. 

That made him react. “Chocolate chipped?” he asked hopefully. 

“Of course,” I laughed. “The question is, are you gonna help me, or should I make them myself?” 

Lucas wasn’t so easily coaxed, but after some subtle threats about eating all the pancakes myself, I finally managed to get him to switch off Netflix and drag his unwilling body into the kitchen. 

It didn’t take us long to whip up a pancake dough. I was carefully mixing it, and Lucas had just found a frying pan when Stephen appeared in the kitchen. 

“Good morning, dad!” Lucas beamed and flashed his father a smile. The corners of his blue eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled, and I saw a younger version of Stephen. 

“Good morning, Lucas,” Stephen said and returned the smile. But I could see the exhaustion lurk just beneath the surface. Despite the extra time he had slept this morning, he was most likely still tired. 

“Mum and I are making pancakes,” he announced. “Do you want some too?” 

I knew from experience that Stephen wasn’t all that big on pancakes. He had only had them twice during our marriage. But despite that, he smiled and said: “yes, that would be nice, Lucas.” 

Lucas and I quickly made a neat little stack of pancakes, and while he brought the pancake filled plate over to the table, I made some coffee. 

The coffee had barely finished running through the machine before Stephen leapt from his seat and poured himself a large cup of the steaming warm beverage. 

“Can we do something today? Like, the three of us?” Lucas asked between mouthfuls of pancake.

“I’m afraid I’m very tired after the plane ride,” Stephen said. “It really was a dreadful journey back. You see, there was this woman and child who...” 

I very nearly grimaced as he proceeded to tell our son all about a child who seemingly had kicked at his seat during the plane ride. 

“What about football then?” Lucas asked. “There’s a game on the television later today!” 

Stephen smiled. “I’d like that, Lucas. Your mother told me that you scored the final goal in your last game.” 

Yes, the game you couldn’t make it home to. My mouth nearly twisted, and I was quick to hide it in my teacup. This irritated me. It irritated me that Lucas did this every time Stephen was home. Pretended that he wasn’t disappointed in any way. He kept it all in until Stephen had left. And then he took it out on me. As though I was responsible for his father’s behavior. 

“No, we’ll watch it together. Won’t we, mum? Mum?” 

“Yes?” I said. I had been zoning out again. 

“You’ll watch the game with us, right?” Lucas asked and looked at me with his big blue eyes. 

“Of course I will,” I said automatically. I’d had plans about maybe going out and window shopping a bit. See if I found anything, I could use for my studio project. My plan had been to leave Lucas with   
Stephen and hope that he would take the opportunity to talk to his son for once. But of course, I couldn’t say no now that Lucas was asking me. 

“But honey, you are not interested in football,” Stephen pointed out. 

Why did he have to say that? Why did he have to make Lucas’ smile falter just a little? Was it really necessary? 

“I can keep up,” I said and kept the smile plastered to my face. “Don’t worry.” 

The football game became a reality. All three of us were huddled together on the couch. Lucas shouted at the television, and I laughed every time he did so. It could have been a cozy afternoon if it hadn’t been for Stephen’s flickering gaze. Every so often, he would glance at his watch. Like he was silently counting the minutes until the game was over and he had an excuse to “go upstairs and lie down” as he called it. That usually meant making a phone call or two to Boston. Stephen was always working. Even when he was here with Lucas and me. 

And once or twice, I caught him patting his pocket. Maybe it was my imagination, but I was sure I could see his fingers twitch slightly in that way they always did when he needed to write an important email to someone. 

I almost made a sharp remark at that. Almost. For Lucas’ sake, I kept it in. If I said something, Stephen and I would start to bicker, and the afternoon would be ruined. That wouldn’t be fair to Lucas. 

“Yes!” Lucas suddenly exclaimed and shook a fist at the television. “Did you see that, mum?” 

“I sure did. Looks like our team is doing well,” I smiled. Lucas had been so forthcoming today. I was thrilled by that. So thrilled, I was almost ready to ignore how distant Stephen was. 

“Are you tired?” I asked Stephen as Lucas once again yelled at the television. 

“Yes. I’m hoping to take a nap after we’ve watched the game,” Stephen said and stressed out his point by stretching and rolling his shoulders up and down. “I shouldn’t have taken a nap in the plane. My back is awfully stiff.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I said and turned my attention back to the game on the television screen. Lucas didn’t like when we didn’t pay attention.

Stephen laughed dryly. “How sympathetic of you, Ella.” 

He probably meant it as a joke, but I was still ever so slightly hurt over his tone. I raised an eyebrow as I looked at him.

He barked out another laugh and then patted my hand lightly. So he had only been joking. I relaxed once more. He was probably just using that tone because he was tired. That was all there was in it. I shouldn’t overanalyze it. There was no reason to. And I wasn’t particularly interested in the answers I would find if I started to analyze too much.

Lucas shouted at the television, and this time, Stephen joined him. 

I smiled a little. It was nice to see that he was trying to make an effort and be here with our son. 

Once the game had ended, Lucas’ friend Trevor texted him and asked if he could come over. I said yes. It was the weekend after all.

After our son had wheeled off on his bicycle, Stephen immediately found his phone in his pocket and started texting. 

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked. “I’m sure Lucas wants chicken because it’s Saturday, but I was actually planning on making something healthy. What do you think? Stephen?” 

“Mmm,” Stephen said. He was looking at his phone. 

“What would you like for dinner?” I tried again. “Do you want chicken or something else? I could make a salad.” 

“You decide.” 

“Very well. Then I think I’ll make fish,” I said. Stephen didn’t like fish. 

“What a good idea, my dear.” 

My jaw clenched. He wasn’t paying attention at all. But I didn’t want to argue with him. He was going back to Boston tomorrow. Arguing would be such a pointless way to spend our time together. 

“Is everything alright with the company?” I asked. “You mentioned some problems.” 

He didn’t answer me. 

“Is it something you can solve over the phone?” I tried again. 

Once again, he didn’t answer me. The only sound I was met by, was the sound of him typing away on his phone. 

I nearly lost my temper at that. “I think I’ll paint the guest room,” I declared louder than I normally would be. “I was thinking either magenta or violet.” 

That got his attention. He finally looked up from his phone, and his forehead was wrinkled when he asked: “why would you do that?” 

“Because I’d a wall color that inspires me.” 

Still frowning, he asked: “and what do you need inspiration for, Ella?” 

“I’m considering to turn the room into a studio. You know, like the one I had in our apartment in New York, when I was still painting. I’ve actually been going to a couple of art classes while you’ve been away, and those lessons are really-“ 

The rest of the sentence died on my tongue. He wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying. He was looking at his phone. Again. 

I filled the dishwasher a little more aggressively than I normally would. Not even that could get his attention. Maybe I could try and smash a plate or two. Maybe that would be enough to wake him. 

Stephen left late that Sunday. He stayed just long enough to help Lucas with his homework, something Lucas relished in. 

When he left, Stephen gave Lucas a hug and instructed him to “be good”, gave me a light kiss on the cheek and informed me that he would be back in three weeks. Then he left the house to drive to the airport and fly back to Boston. 

I was frustrated. I kept hoping that something would be different the next time he was home. That the weekend would bring us closer together, but it hadn’t. It had been exactly like the previous time. Like the way it always was. 

***********

Come Thursday, I was still full of frustration, and I ended up arriving twenty minutes too early to the art class. Fortunately enough, the doors were unlocked, so I could just walk right in. 

I had expected to find the room quiet and deserted, the perfect place to stew in my frustration, but I soon found out that there was one more person present apart from myself. 

The model. The two previous times, she had entered the room along with Griselda Abbots, but either Griselda was running late tonight, or the model was here exceptionally early. Like me.

She was standing in her white bathrobe. She was tilting her head slightly, and every time she did so, her massive curls bounced slightly. 

That was when I noticed what she was tilting her head at. She was actually looking at the portrait I had painted. Griselda Abbott had gotten it framed and now it was hanging on the wall. Exactly like she had said she would. 

It had been quite a while since I had last seen my pictures displayed on any wall, and I felt really good about it. It didn’t matter that only a small crowd would see it. That wasn’t what mattered the most. 

No, what mattered the most, was that Griselda considered this portrait good enough to be displayed on the wall.

I felt honored. 

Suddenly, the model turned around and smiled widely at me. She must have heard me come in. She ran a finger through her mass of curls as she asked: “Did you draw this?” 

“I did,” I confirmed with a slight nod. 

“Wow,” she said plainly “That looks really good. You’ve totally nailed me. Even my insane hair and all.” 

I laughed. “I’m glad you’re satisfied with the way it turned out. I certainly am. And I don’t find your hair to be “insane”. I find it to be interesting to paint. Challenging. In the good way.” 

Another smile. “You’re British,” she observed. 

“Yes I am,” I confirmed. 

“Are you from Surrey or Oxford or something like that?” she asked curiously. 

“No, I’m from London. But I’ve lived here for the past thirteen years,” I told her. 

“I like your accent,” she said and smiled widely. 

“Oh. Thank you.” 

“Very Downtown Abbey,” she continued. 

I chuckled. “I suppose it would be a horrible cliché if I told that that’s actually my favorite series?” 

“It would. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me,” she snickered. 

“Thank you.” 

Before I got the chance to say anything else than just those two words, the door was opened and a flock of my fellow “art students” came into the room. Soon Griselda arrived as well, and we were ready to start the lesson. 

I quickly found my usual spot. The model disrobed and got into the correct pose. Concentration washed over me, and it didn’t take long before I had forgotten the weekends frustrations completely. These lessons were like a healing balm.


	5. Chapter Five

I did something fairly important that Monday. 

I called a service guy about the drain in the bathroom. Sure enough, the drain was clogged, and I willingly paid the price for having it fixed. 

To me, having the drain fixed was a fairly big deal. And then I realized afterwards how sad that was. It was very good that I had the art lessons. This week’s lesson had been very rewarding, and I was certain next week’s lesson would be the same. 

And besides, it wasn’t like this week had been a complete bore. I had been experimenting in the guest room. Meaning that I had bought a bucket of purple paint and then tested it out on the wall. But the color wasn’t exactly right, so I would have to drive back to the store and buy some more paint. I was counting on doing that next week. Not that I didn’t have time this week, I had nothing but time, but there had to be something for next week as well. Something to look forward to. 

The plans about turning the guest room into a studio gave me a burst of energy. And to be completely honest, the fact that Stephen didn’t think that painting the walls purple was a good idea, made me want to do it even more. I tried not to think too much about why that was. He was barely here anyway. Why should he care what color the walls in the guest room were? He rarely came into the guest room. 

Or in the kitchen for that matter. Stephen wasn’t very good at cooking. 

But I had such plans for the guest room. I had gone ahead and done the unthinkable. I had made a Pinterest account. That account gave me access to all the different pictures on Pinterest, and it was a wonderful way to gain inspiration for my studio. I had even bought myself a new sketchbook. A proper sketchbook. A thick, leather bound one with glossy, cream colored pages. It had been expensive, but   
I deemed it was worth it. Just looking at it made me happy, so I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to actually draw in it. But I would soon get every opportunity to do so. Next Thursday was charcoal sketch, and I couldn’t wait to go to the lesson and try my brand-new sketchbook. 

Until then, I would have to think of something I could do. Apart from watching television. 

I soon found something I could do. I made a meretricious list of everything I was gonna need for my new art studio. I wrote everything down, including the prices and the websites where I could order it and get it cheaper. Of course, the art studio would be a process. Something that took time, but it was very fun to sit and plan everything. Some of the art studios I had seen on Pinterest almost made me green with envy. Imagine having such a wonderful place to paint. I would never leave it if I had such a studio in my house. 

I was still searching on Pinterest and yearning for other people’s art studios when my phone ringed. I was expecting it to be Delia, because she often called in midday when she was on her lunch break, but it wasn’t. It was Stephen. 

“Hello,” I said and tried to make my voice light and natural. I was still annoyed after the weekend where he had barely been present even though he was home for once. 

“Ella, my dear,” Stephen said in the other end. “Could you do me a favor and go into the bedroom and find the papers in the bedside drawer, and then tell me which date is written on them?” 

“Of course. Hold on.” I said. 

“I’ll hold, but I would appreciate if you hurried. This is important.” 

A sharp answer prickled on my tongue, but I choked it down as I hurried upstairs. Trapping the phone between my shoulder and ear, I found the papers in the bedside drawer and read the dates aloud as he had asked me to. 

Stephen sounded very triumphant in the other end when he said: “of course. I thought so. You can put the papers back where you found them now, Ella. Goodbye.” There was a slight click, and then he was gone. 

“Goodbye,” I said and frowned slightly as I stuffed the papers back in the drawer. I shook my head slightly as I walked back downstairs to my waiting laptop. I didn’t like when Stephen sounded so triumphant. It usually meant that some poor soul was about to lose his job. Stephen could be quite ruthless, and he didn’t tolerate any type of sloppiness in his firm. A shame he was so slobby himself when he returned home from work.

I was settling down in front of my laptop once more when I realized something. He hadn’t asked me anything this time either. I knew he was busy, but surely, he could have squeezed a “how are you doing”, or “what are you doing” into the conversation. Or he could have wished me a nice day. But he hadn’t. Again. 

I quelled a sigh. But then I decided that I wouldn’t think of that right now. No. I definitely didn’t have time to think about such trivial things right now. I was in the middle of planning an art studio. That was far more important than thinking too much about all the things that were wrong in my life. 

I turned my attention back to Pinterest and tapped a few words into the search engine. Some of those art studios looked very impressive, and I really wished that I had had a room big enough to copy one of them. It would have been perfect. The perfect place to let inspiration flourish. 

I felt very good come Tuesday. The drain was fixed. I had gotten multiple ideas for the studio plan. I had bought a new sketchbook, I was going to another arts class later today. And it was a beautiful day. 

So I had decided to make another of my plans happen. The idea had come to me earlier today when I woke up and had been greeted by the soft, golden light peeking in through my thin, white curtains. I had eaten a light breakfast, and then I had rummaged through the cupboard until I had found a very old pair of running shoes. The sight of the shoes had almost made me drop the idea right then and there, but before I could chicken out, I had wiggled my feet into the shoes, tied them and then walked out of the house, feeling every bit determined. 

I still felt every bit determined right now as I jogged through the quiet neighborhood. I smiled at a couple of neighbors. They smiled back, but at the same time, they looked a bit surprised. I couldn’t blame them. I had never jogged before. Of course, I had exercised before, I had done Pilates, but it always inside my own home. Exercising outside made for a nice change. I was out of shape and panting slightly as I jogged up and down the streets, but I tried not to think too much of that. Instead I tried to celebrate this new hobby. Because this was completely new. The new Ella. 

The new Ella. I scoffed as I wiped my sweaty brow with the back of my hand. I had never believed in forty plus women who suddenly wanted to re-invent themselves. I was probably just going through a midlife crisis. Or menopause. Either way, it felt good to run. It somehow quelled the prickling sensation I had been feeling all over my body lately. A physical reaction to never getting out of the house. A subtle warning that I was going insane. 

I was longing for change. For something to change. Anything. I just wasn’t sure what. I wasn’t sure whether it was myself who needed to change, or the world around me. But one thing I did know: I was slowly but steadily getting lost in my own life. Everything in my life revolved around the people around me, and I was tired of that. But I didn’t know how to change that. I had no real opportunity to talk to Stephen, because he was rarely here. And when he was, he was exhausted. Beginning to list all the things I was dissatisfied with, was hardly fair to him. Because despite everything, he was the one who had ensured that Lucas and I were living well in the big house. 

My feet echoed slightly on the pavement as I quickened my pace. 

“Good morning, Ella!” Mrs. Collins, another neighbor called. 

“Good morning, Laura,” I called back. I could have chosen to stop and chat for a moment, but I decided not to. There was no reason to stop now that I had finally found a rhythm and pace that suited me. 

This was my new project, and if I stopped now, it would be far too easy to just walk home. I couldn’t risk that. No more slobbery.

That afternoon, I was every bit excited as I took a quick shower, traded my running clothes for a pair of nice blue slacks, a cream colored blouse and tied a blue silk scarf around my neck. The color matched the color of my slacks to perfection. In my own opinion, I looked rather nice. I combed my honey golden hair and rolled it into a soft, low bun. Then I stuffed my brand-new sketchbook into my purse, switched my phone to “silent” mode and hopped into the car to drive towards the building where the art class would be held. I had looked forward to this for a week, and after the last lesson where we had worked with pastel colors, I was more eager than ever to paint again. Charcoal and sketchbook this time. It had been a while since I last had worked with charcoal, but that didn’t faze me. I was looking forward to trying it again. Once again, I felt like the young art student I once had been.

I was grateful to Delia. Grateful that she had pushed me into doing this. It wasn’t an enormous change, but it was something that made me happy. It was something that once had been my entire life. I was finding back to a part of myself. 

Alright, so maybe I was re-inventing myself. Not that I would ever admit to anyone, of course. 

I arrived at my destination ten minutes before the class was supposed to start, and there was already a small crowd. Including the guy I had talked to a few times. I had found out that his name was Gus. 

There was also a younger woman named Alexandra, and in my opinion, she was the one who deserved to have her pictures displayed on the wall. They were far better than my work. She was most likely an art student. There was this sort of freshness about her work. 

A few minutes later, Griselda Abbott came into the room with the model trailing behind her. 

“Good afternoon, painters,” she said briskly and rubbed her hands together. “Are you ready to create?” 

“Yes,” I said a little too loudly. I found it quite impossible to contain my excitement about being back for another lesson. 

A few people of the students, including Gus snickered at that. 

“Very good, Mrs. Benson,” Griselda said and flashed me a smile. “I appreciate an eager student.” 

I averted my eyes and looked at the ground. Now I felt a little embarrassed about my outburst. 

“Alright, everybody. Please find your sketchbooks and sit down,” Griselda said. “As usually, we only have two hours on our hand, and I crave that we make good with them.” 

I quickly trotted over to my table and sat down. I craved the same as Griselda Abbott. To get started right away. I couldn’t start soon enough. Now I felt less embarrassed about my previous enthusiasm. I found my sketchbook in my purse and opened it, ready to fill out the first blank page. I felt another thrill of excitement at the mere thought. 

The model took off her robe and lied down on the on the chaise. She was lying on her side, facing us. Her ankles were randomly crossed. That was clearly the chosen pose for today. Furthermore, she draped a blanket nonchalantly around her lower half, most likely to add to the artistic touch. Her explosion of black curls weren’t held in place by any scarf today, and just as well. That scarf hadn’t done a very good job at keeping her hair in place the last time. Her toenails weren’t yellow anymore. Instead they were painted a bright pink color that almost hurt my eyes to look at. I quelled a chuckle. She clearly liked bright colors. 

She was resting her head in her hand, and I glanced at her long fingers to see if I was right about my assumption. I was indeed. The color on her fingernails didn’t match the one adorning her toenails. Her fingernails were almost wine red. Pink and wine red. Interesting combination. But maybe there was a reason behind after all. As I started to sketch her, I noticed that the little gemstone in her navel was exactly the same color as the nail polish on her fingernails. Clever detail. 

I brought my pencil down to the paper once more, and this time I wasn’t as embarrassed as I started to outline her body. But there was still that faint whisper of envy as I sketched every flawless detail of her body. Every groomed, soft part of her. Every part that reminded me of how young she was. How her future stretched out endlessly in front of her. 

The model shifted slightly on the chaise, and the movement made me pause with my pencil hovering just above the paper. I would have to wait until she was lying still. Otherwise the sketch would be ruined. 

It didn’t take long before she noticed what her little wiggle had caused. She flashed me a slightly sheepish smile and mouthed: “sorry”.

I returned her smile and flashed her a silly thumbs up to indicate that it was alright, and there was no harm done.

The corners of her mouth twitched a little, but then she scolded her features and resumed her nonchalant position. 

I brought the pencil down once more and continued on my work. The pencil were practically flying over the paper. An irritating little voice reminded me that I only had two hours before the lesson would be over. But I was going to continue at home, that was for sure. Once I had picked up Lucas, made him dinner and he had retired to his bedroom, I would find the sketchbook and resume my work. There would be no “Downtown Abbey” for me tonight. Who needed Downton Abbey when one could be sketching instead? 

Peace washed over me as I sketched. I forgot all the things that irritated me. All the little things I was unsatisfied with. All the things I had been thinking about during my run. I couldn’t remember them anyone. They became insignificant as I sat here with the open sketchbook and brought the model in front of me to life on the first blank page. There was a slight muttering behind me. Gus seemingly had problems with the model’s hair, and Griselda was offering him her help. 

I however, was “on a roll”. I had no problems with capturing her wild, black curls. I had painted her five times already, and I felt as though I was familiar with her artistically speaking. Even with her eyes that had proven difficult for me at first. Now I had less trouble with capturing them. She had some very expressive eyes, and yet it was impossible to figure out what she was thinking as she lied there and posed for a room full of eager painters. Was she worrying about tomorrow, or was she really as relaxed as she appeared to be? 

If that was the case, I had just found new reason to envy her further. I only seemed to relax at one particular time. When I was painting. 

Suddenly, a strand of hair escaped from the bun and fell onto my forehead. I barely noticed it. Nor did I do anything to push it away from my face. I was far too pre-occupied with what I was doing. The tip of my pencil scratched against the paper, and it was very satisfying to watch how the blank spaces were filled out by the motive. And once again, time slipped away. I forgot that I had other obligations. 

I forgot that Stephen would probably call and complain about his work later tonight. It all became so insignificant. I couldn’t really be bothered with it now when I was in my own space. The room no one else could enter. Not even the feeling of being lost in my own life.

The scratching of my pencil against the paper became slightly manic, but I doubted that anyone noticed. And if they did, how could they blame me for wanting to make the most of these two precious hours that quickly had become the highlight of my week.

Absentmindedly, I brought a hand up and pushed the strand of hair away from my forehead. Next time, I would tie my hair back in a ponytail. And I would ditch the scarf as well. I didn’t need it. If anything, it only made me feel warm. Maybe I would wear short sleeves next time. Maybe I would forget entirely about the complex I had with my arms and opt for a short sleeved blouse for once.

“And... I’m afraid we’re out of time!” 

Completely bewildered, I looked up. Had it already been two hours? No! Not yet.

But I had to face reality. And reality was that the lesson was over for today. The model had already shrugged her robe back on. I had just been too busy to notice it at first.

Around me, the other “eager students” started to pack up their things and get ready to leave. 

I choked back my disappointment as I reluctantly did what everybody else were doing. It was time to leave. And now I had to wait a week to come back. 

“Thank you for a good lesson,” Griselda said. “Please leave your finished work here. When we meet again next week, I’ll have chosen a winner.” 

“And what does the winner get?” Gus asked and chuckled. “A check?” 

“A box full of Shelburne’s finest chocolate, Mr. Harris,” Griselda deadpanned. 

Everybody, myself included chuckled. 

I carefully ripped the page out of my new sketchbook and tried not to cringe as I did so. Griselda would need to see my work to evaluate it. 

Once again, Griselda thanked us for a good lesson, reminded us of what time the next lesson would be, and then she left the room as the first one. Her “students” gradually followed, and after having hovered for a moment and wished that I could stay a bit longer, I too left the room. I was already yearning to come back. 

******************

I had made it out on the parking lot and was steering towards my silver grey car, when I suddenly heard a thud. Startled by the noise, I turned my head to see what that was about. 

The model was standing slightly bend over her yellow bug of a car, and the thud I had just heard, had clearly been her slamming the hood of the car shut in pure frustration. There was clearly some sort of issue. A pity for her, but to be honest, the car did look slightly old. Not like the one I was driving. The one Stephen had bought last year out of nowhere. He wouldn’t hear of it when I pointed out that there had been nothing wrong with our old car. He had just scoffed and said something about renewal. 

Deciding to come to the girl’s aid, I spun around on my heels and walked towards the yellow bug instead. As I got closer, I heard her curse under her breath and mutter something about the car being some “stupid, fucking shit”. Colorful vocabulary, but I couldn’t blame her for being frustrated. Nothing could tick me off as fast as having car troubles could. Lucas claimed that I had “road rage”, and even though I always vehemently denied it, he was probably right.

I cleared my throat and then asked. “Hello. Is there a problem?” 

She looked up, and her brown eyes gleamed with anger. “Yeah, my car has decided to call the quits on me. Useless junk.” She glanced at her phone. “And I have a shift in ten minutes. Great. Just great.” 

“Where do you work?” I asked. 

“Pauline’s Café & Restaurant.”

I didn’t need long to consider it. She really looked like this would ruin the rest of her day. “I can give you a lift,” I offered. 

She raised an eyebrow, and I saw a glimmer of hope in her brown eyes. “Seriously? That would save my life. But are you sure it’s not an inconvenience for you?” 

I almost laughed as I said: “not at all.” I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere right now. I never was. My calendar was so empty, it was a little sad.

“Thank you so much,” she said earnestly and glanced at my silver grey car. “That your car over there?” 

“Yes, it is,” I confirmed. 

She shot her car one last furious look, muttered something about having to call a mechanic (a few more colorful words from her equally colorful vocabulary). Her gaze flickered for a moment, but then she seemingly made a quick decision walked towards my car instead. 

I quickly followed her and unlocked the door for her. She elegantly climbed onto the passenger’s seat and folded her long legs while I walked round and positioned myself behind the wheel. 

“Will it be alright to leave the car here?” I asked. 

“No idea,” she said and puffed out air. It made her curls blow around as though it was windy. “I can’t exactly be moved, so either it’s going to be fine tomorrow, or someone will have smashed the windows.”

“Let’s hope not,” I said as I turned the car around and away from the parking lot. “Do you have enough leg room there? There’s a button right-“ 

“It’s fine,” she interrupted me. “I have plenty of leg room.”

“Oh. Good.” I switched off the radio. She was probably not interested in Mozart, and then I turned my attention to the road. 

She leaned back against the seat and tapped something on her phone. Then she glanced up, and her voice was somewhat calmer when she said: “thank you for saving my ass.” 

“It’s not a problem at all,” I assured.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re just making it up?” she asked. 

“I’m not,” I said firmly. “I assure you.” 

“Alright,” she said and swung one jeans clad leg over the other. The gesture was as nonchalant as when she laid down for one of her poses. 

I suddenly foolishly realized that this was the first time I saw her fully dressed. The white bathrobe I had seen her in, didn’t really count. She was wearing a pair of black jeans, a black tanktop and an oversized, cable knitted scarf in yellow. She must really like yellow, I thought to myself. I had certainly seen a lot of yellow on her until now. 

So far, she had been tapping away on her phone, but now she looked up. “Think Griselda will crown you the winner of this week’s sketch?” 

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that,” I said truthfully. Winning didn’t really matter to me. I was just there to paint. 

“I think you’ll win,” she said. “I saw the other portrait. It was very good.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You a professional?” she asked. 

“Professional?” 

“Do you live of your art?” she précised. “Because I don’t think it’s actually allowed to be professional and go to these art lessons.” 

I laughed. “Well, then I’m not breaking any rules. I’m not a professional.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. But I have studied art. A long time ago.” 

“So, why’d you stop?” she asked plainly. 

I shrugged as best as I could with both hands on the wheel. “Fate had other things in store for me, I suppose.” Like my son. Undoubtedly the best thing that had ever happened to me. 

“I hear you,” she said. “Things doesn’t always go as planned.” 

“No, they really don’t.” 

“Take me for example,” she said and sighed dramatically as she glanced at her phone. “My shift starts in five minutes.” 

I chuckled. “Well, be better hurry then, don’t we?” with that I speeded just a little more. 

She chuckled too and leaned back in her seat once more. “You can switch the music back on. I don’t mind a bit of Mozart.” 

I did as requested and switched the music on. Maybe that was her way of saying that she didn’t really like small talk. 

Soon I pulled up in front of Pauline’s Café & Restaurant, and the girl looked incredibly relived. “I made it in time. Maybe I won’t get fired now.”

“Surely, they can’t fire you for having car troubles?” I said and raised an eyebrow. 

“Let’s hope not,” she said as she opened the door and swung one leg out of the car. She glanced back at me. “Thanks, Ella. It is Ella, right?” 

“It is,” I confirmed. 

“Ella.” She repeated. “Thank you, Ella.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I owe you one.” 

“No, you don’t. It wasn’t a problem.” 

“But still, you did me a favor, and I intend to return that favor,” she insisted and swung her other leg out of the car. 

“There’s really no need to,” I said and tried to insist as well. 

But she didn’t pay attention to my vague protests. Instead she said: “see you at the next lesson.” 

“Yes. See you,” I parroted. 

She turned her head and flashed me one last smile. Then she elegantly exited the car and walked towards the café with her wild curls billowing behind her. 

I turned the car around, turned up the volume on Mozart, and then I drove away from the café. 

It was only when I reached the main road that I realized I didn’t even know her name. I had forgotten to ask. It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask her. 

Well, that wasn’t very polite of you, I scolded myself. I was usually politer than this. It was probably because I had been so consumed with the lesson. My thoughts were still dancing around art and what I was going to sketch when I got home. Maybe I could sketch Lucas. I had so many baby pictures of him lying around and sketching him myself would be a bit special. Maybe I could even create an entire album full of sketches of him. 

Yes, that was definitely an idea. Another idea. I had gotten quite a few ideas lately, and I smiled to myself as I drove towards my home. Now I knew what I was gonna do when I got back home. That wasn’t half bad. Anything to drive me away from the television. I wanted to create. To do something. 

And tomorrow I would go for another run, I decided right then and there. Maybe I could train myself up to participating in a marathon. Was that a very midlife-crisis thing to do? 

Yes, probably. 

I ignored my inner voice. I was gonna go ahead and work on my shape anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t participate in a marathon but getting in shape I definitely would. 

It couldn’t hurt.


	6. Chapter Six

The next week started out badly.

In fact that bad news started in the weekend already.

That Sunday, Stephen called. Mainly to unload. I had him in the other end of the line for almost two hours. Two hours where he complained and complained and complained. There was something wrong at the company. And it was his employees’ fault. He spoke so crassly about them, I told him that that language hardly was necessary. Then he became cross with me. Complained that I never sympathized with him and always took the others side. 

That phone call ended with me calmly informing him that he was much to agitated to make sense right now. Then I told him that I hoped that he would solve the problem in a satisfactory way, and after expressing my hope that he would have a good rest of the day and saying goodbye, I quietly ended the call while he was still spewing complains into my ear. 

I tried not to let that affect the rest of my Sunday, but I was a little upset nevertheless. It had been a while since I had been forced to hang up on him while he was still talking. It was a method that I had used frequently through the years I could sense that his anger was going in a spiral. But still, it had been quite a while since I last had to use this method, and I knew he wasn’t pleased. When he got back, he would point out that he “hadn’t finished talking”, and he would be grossly dissatisfied with that. If I told him that it was because he had taken his anger out on me, he would firmly deny it, and we would spend his weekend away from work bickering. Lucas would sense the tension between us. He would become withdrawn, Stephen would scold him for it, and then he would claim that it was all my fault. Again. 

I couldn’t win. 

And perhaps Lucas possessed telepathic powers that made him capable of sensing Stephen and mines argument over the phone that Sunday, because he came down for breakfast looking awfully peaky that Monday. 

I asked him all the mandatory questions. Where did it hurt, how did he feel, was he dizzy, nauseous, etc. 

He had a headache. A bad one. And his stomach was aching too, he said. I felt his forehead, and he felt warm, so I send him into the bathroom to take his temperature. 

It turned out that his temperature was 100.4°F, so I send him straight back to bed. He tried to argue. Not because he was desperate to go to school, but because he didn’t want to miss a day with his best friend. His arguments were wasted on me, though. He wasn’t going anywhere today, and he looked sort of relieved when I insisted that he went back to bed. 

I spent that day making him chamomile tea with honey and fetching him crackers, and oddly enough, he seemed more forthcoming than usual. He asked me about the art lessons I had been taking, and I told him that the lessons were going well. Then he asked about the “purple splotches” on the wall in the guest room, and I laughed as I told him that the splotches were intentional. I was considering to maybe paint the walls in there. He then asked why, and I told him that I was thinking about turning the guest room into an art studio. I downplayed my plans to make it sound as though I wasn’t entirely sure yet and merely considering. 

But to my surprise, Lucas didn’t think it was a bad idea. Not at all. He coughed, and then hoarsely declared that it was a good idea. I had liked painting in the past, so why not start doing it again? 

“Maybe you can sell some of your paintings and become really famous,” he’d croaked. 

And I had laughed, shaken my head and said: “I don’t think so, but thank you for the encouragement, sweetie.” 

Then he had asked me if his father knew that he was sick today. I had truthfully answered that yes, I had messaged Stephen and told him, and he was sending his love. Alright, so I might have added a bit   
to the last part, but there was no reason to tell Lucas that his father’s reply had been a crisp “oh, well. I’m sure he’ll be fine tomorrow. He never liked Mondays.” 

Sometimes my husband could be quite insensitive. And especially when he was under pressure at work. I knew he would bring back some sort of present for Lucas in a way to make up for it. 

Later that day, Lucas had unleashed one of his biggest talents on me. His puppy dog eyes. They never failed to soften me, and they certainly didn’t today either when he sweetly asked me to run to the store and buy him some new comic books, please. I did what he asked. Maybe I was being soft, but he was sick today. He deserved to be spoiled at least a little. 

I instructed him to stay in bed and keep the covers on at all times. He promised to do so. I went downstairs and grabbed my coat. Today’s weather was slightly nippy. It wasn’t very surprising that Lucas had gotten a cold. 

Despite Stephen’s “prediction”, Lucas was still ill come Tuesday. His “sick bed” had been moved from his actual bed and to the couch in the sitting room by early afternoon. He was tired of lying upstairs and stare at the wall, he claimed. He was still pale, and his blue eyes slightly glassy, but his fever was coming down nicely, I could tell. His cheeks weren’t rosy anymore. But he was still coughing slightly, and he was slightly dizzy when he walked. This was undoubtedly going to be another sick day for him.

I settled down in the armchair next to the couch. “Do you want to watch a movie?” I offered. “We could watch Wolverine again if you’d like.” I frowned slightly as I considered. “Or maybe it would be better if you took a nap. Then I could make you some soup when you wake up.” 

“Mum,” he said croakily. “I’m fine. You don’t have to fuss.” 

“Of course I do. You’re ill,” I dismissed. 

He laughed, but the sound quickly turned into a cough. “I feel better than yesterday.”

I raised an eyebrow. 

“I do,” he assured me. “I just have a cold. You don’t have to worry. And I think you’re supposed to get ready for your art lesson.” 

“I’m not going today,” I said. “Not when you’re sick.” 

“Mum.” 

“We’re not discussing this, Lucas.” 

He appeared to be swallowing down a cough as he propped himself up and leaned back against the many pillows, I had gathered for him. “Mum, you have to go to that art lesson.” 

“No, honey. Not today.” 

“Yes, you do,” he insisted. “You’re so happy when you get back.” 

“I’m happy right now.” 

He chuckled hoarsely. “Not as happy as you are when you get back from a lesson.” 

“I’m just skipping this week’s lesson, Lucas. It’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah? Isn’t today sketchbook day again?” 

“It is,” I confirmed.

“You love sketchbook day.” 

“I can manage without it for once.” 

“And disappoint your pretty, new sketchbook?” Lucas coaxed. 

I chuckled. “I can sketch here. While you sleep.” 

“That’s not the same,” Lucas scoffed. “You go there to get out of the house, don’t you? And let’s be honest, if you stayed here, you would probably just end up doing all sorts of other things instead of   
sketching.” 

I didn’t answer that accusation. 

“I’m right aren’t I?” he said triumphantly. 

“Yes, most likely,” I admitted. 

He snicker-coughed. “Then go. Seriously, go. I’m fine. I’ll probably just take a nap. You don’t have to stay and watch while I sleep. That’s just creepy.” 

“If you really believe...” 

“I really do,” he interrupted. “You have my blessing to go to your art lesson. Now shoo.” 

“Alright,” I chuckled as I stood from the armchair. “I will. But I’ll have my phone switched on the entire time, and it’s only two hours, so I’ll be-“ 

“Mum. Shoo.” Lucas said flatly. 

I did what he requested and “shooed”. Upstairs and into the bedroom where I changed into the only pair of jeans I owned. Everything else was a dubious mismatch of nice slacks and “comfy” yoga pants.   
The jeans were a bit looser than normal, I noted as I zipped and then buttoned them. Maybe the jogging was paying off. 

I traded the boxy blouse I had been wearing for a nice, bottle green one with little pearly buttons. But instead of wasting time with rolling my hair into a bun, I simply tied it back in a ponytail at the nape of my neck. My previous choice of wardrobe for the art lessons had been a bit ridiculous. I wasn’t having a dinner party or going out to something fancy. I was participating in an art lesson. That called for comfort, not looking like I was on my way to a fancy restaurant. I briefly considered to tie a scarf around my hair to keep it a little more in place, but I decided not to. That would be to take the artist image a little too far. 

I felt fairly satisfied with the way I looked. I had applied my makeup and felt ready to go. At least physically. I was still a bit skeptic when it came to leaving Lucas home alone when he was sick. Even if he had asked me to “shoo”. 

I turned my back on my reflection and walked back downstairs. Lucas was still lying with his head propped up on the many pillows, and he had switched on the television. 

“Well, I’m ready to go,” I announced. “Now, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer if-“ 

“Mum.” He interrupted flatly. “I have my tea. I have my crackers. I have my tissues......” he made a face at the many Kleenexes lying around him. “And I have the television. I’ll be fine, alright? Just... Just... Shoo.” 

“Alright. I’ll shoo,” I surrendered. “But promise you’ll call me if something comes up.” 

“I promise. Now leave before I throw my used tissues at you.” As to stress out the threat, he grabbed a handful of the tissues and swung his hand. 

I laughed as I once again reminded him that I would only be gone for two hours. And then I “encouraged” him to watch something that wasn’t Kings of Queens. 

Despite knowing that my son was sick at home, I still felt that sense of happiness as I left the house and climbed into the car to drive to my destination. Finally, after the somewhat bad weekend I’d had, I was gonna sketch again. We were gonna work with colors today, and I was looking forward to that after last week’s charcoal session. Working with colors were always a bit more interesting. Today I would strive to get the color of the models’ eyes just right. I hadn’t quite succeeded in that the last time we had worked with colors. By the time I was done, her eyes had been more of a muddy brown than the rich coffee color they actually were, and that wasn’t good enough. No. Today I would get the eyes right. 

Trying not to be overtaken by guilt, I rounded a corner and inched closer to my destination. I couldn’t keep beating up myself about leaving Lucas at home when he was sick. This had been his own suggestion, for crying out loud. He had more or less forced me out of the door. He had insisted that I went to my lesson, so that was exactly what I would do. He would be fine. Of course he was. He had his cellphone, his tea, his crackers and not to mention Netflix and its well of possibilities. The only risk was that he would find out how much Downtown Abbey I had been watching lately. I chuckled quietly to myself. 

I reached the building in perfect timing. I wasn’t the first one there, but that wasn’t a problem. I actually preferred it this way. I didn’t want to be known as the over-eager, middle aged woman who always were there early because she didn’t have anything else to do. 

Gus and Alexandra and a few other people I couldn’t quite name were there, and they smiled at me.

“Hey, Ella,” Gus greeted.

“Hello, Gus.”

“Had a nice weekend?” he asked in a friendly small talk manner. 

“Yes, it was fine,” I lied. There was absolutely no reason to tell him the truth. That I had argued with my husband. 

“You should check your table,” Alexandra said nonchalantly. 

I took her advice and trotted towards my table. I noted that a chair had been brought into the middle of the room. So our model would be sitting in a chair today. Good to know. Or maybe not. I was actually better at drawing her lying down, but this would be a challenge, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I was all about challenges these days. 

Reaching my own little “paint station”, I quickly spotted the box of chocolate lying on the table. It would appear that I had won last week’s challenge. I smiled a little. 

“Congratulations,” Alexandra said, and she smiled widely at me. There was no doubt that she was simply happy for me and nothing else. 

“Thank you,” I said, still slightly surprised that Griselda Abbott’s really had deemed my picture the best. In my opinion, there had been plenty of other portraits better than mine. 

But I didn’t get many opportunities to wonder about it. A moment later, the door opened, and Griselda stepped inside followed by the model who was wearing her usual robe. 

“Afternoon, painters,” Griselda said. “Please find your sketchbooks and pencils.” 

I didn’t even pretend not to be eager as I sat down and quickly found my leather bound sketchbook and the colorful pencils, I had brought with me. 

Griselda was clearly in a no-nonsense mood. She quickly gestured to the model. The young woman took off her robe, and this time, it didn’t faze me one bit when she revealed her nudity. Instead I held my pencil ready as she sat down on the chair and found a position that suited her. She crossed her ankles very slightly. Took a second to scratch a spot just above her right knee- her fingernails were painted baby blue today, I noted- and then she leaned back with one hand resting lightly on her outer thigh. The other were supporting her chin.

I immediately went to work. A sense of unbridled joy washed over me as I made the first pencil strokes. The first stroke that would hopefully turn into the curves of the model’s body. I was almost flying through it today. That was what these past five sketching lessons had given me already. I made quick work of sketching the model’s feet, her impossibly long legs, her toned thighs, her curvaceous hips. 

And I had clearly gotten better at keeping my cool. I didn’t even flush as my pencil outlined the junction of her thighs and the groomed, smooth perfection there. Obviously, this was how I should have reacted the first time. Because there was nothing embarrassing about this. It was just me who was an incurable prude. 

Then her stomach. Her lightly rounded stomach. The shimmering little gemstone in her navel

I frowned in sheer concentration as I drew her breasts. To my utter triumph, that didn’t faze me either. Maybe I would end up becoming a professional after this. 

I drew her collarbone, the tiny little scar she had there, sketched her long neck, the faint form of her head. I always saved that for last. Next were her arms, the way they were bending at the elbow, her pronounced biceps. She worked at a café, she had said. Did one really get so muscular from waiting tables? Maybe. I had never tried it myself, so there was no way of telling. 

I was careful to paint her finger nails the correct shade of blue. Normally, I would have waited with the coloration until after I had drawn her head, but since she always wore different nail polish every time, I enjoyed this little private joke of coloring her nails right away.

Next were her head. I wetted my lips slightly as I drew her cheeks. They had such a lovely, healthy fullness about them. My cheeks always appeared hollow whenever I looked at myself in the mirror. I glanced at her as I drew her mouth. Her lips, that always appeared to be smiling even when she was relaxing. I was a little envious of that too. The slightly upward curve of her mouth made her look so approachable. Someone you could ask for road directions or just help in general. The sort of person you’d ask for advice. 

I looked up once more. Now it was time to draw her eyes. Those complicated eyes of her. I wanted to get them right this time. I wanted to capture the look in them, the color. Everything. 

To my surprise, our eyes suddenly met, and she flashed me a teeny, tiny smile. 

“No laughing,” Griselda’s voice boomed from the very back of the room. “Ella, could you please not make our life model laugh?” 

“It was me,” the model said before I could get the chance to defend my actions. “I was the one who made eye contact.” 

“Oh, well, in that case... No making eye contact. And no smiling. Don’t distract our painters.” 

“Sorry, Griselda,” the model said with a very poor imitation of sheepishness. That almost made me laugh. 

Once the room had gone quiet once more, I bowed my head over my sketchbook and resumed my work. I did my best to concentrate on drawing her dark eyes, but suddenly, everything I had done a   
second ago seemed all wrong. I quelled a sigh when I realized that I probably wouldn’t get her eyes right today. I moved on to her hair. Those dark curls that refused to be tamed. Not even by the flower hairclip she had fastened sections of her hair with today. The flower was yellow, I noted. What was it with her and the color yellow? And why was her hair so complicated to draw today? That was the part of her that I usually didn’t find troublesome. But today was apparently different. Oh, well. I would just have to draw it as best as I could. I had to make time for the coloration part as well. The fun part. The part I had really looked forward to. 

In the middle of drawing her hair, I looked up at her again and saw that she was mouthing ‘sorry’ to me like she had done the last time. This time, for causing me trouble with Griselda, most like. 

‘It’s fine’, I mouthed back. I doubted that Griselda was very ticked off by this. 

The model smiled again, and this time the gesture went unnoticed by everyone. Except for me. I returned her smile before I bowed my head over my sketchbook once more. I felt an excited flutter in my stomach as I finally added a bit of color to the portrait of her. Now it was time for the fun part. 

*************

As usually, the lesson was over much too soon. I could easily have stayed another hour. Or two. But I reminded myself that I would be coming back next week. I blew air on the finished portrait to ensure that it wouldn’t smudge. Then I closed the sketchbook and slipped it into my bag. Next were the pencils. They quickly joined the sketchbook in the bag, and just like that, it was time to leave. Again. 

Everybody else were packing up their stuff as well, and the model had already slipped out of the room along with Griselda Abbott. Whom I had forgotten to thank for the chocolate, I suddenly realized. I would have to do that next Tuesday.

“Good lesson, don’t you think?” Gus said claimed my attention as he flashed me a smile. 

“Yes, it really was,” I said and returned his smile.

“Anyway, bye, Ella.” 

“See you next week, Gus.” I said.

He smiled as though what I was telling him wasn’t big news. So others had noticed how eager I was. I didn’t know whether I minded that or not. 

I returned his smile and then wished him a good week. He wished the same for me, and I hoped he was gonna be right. I didn’t feel like having another argument with Stephen anytime soon. I was still a little bitter about how he had been the last time I had spoken to him. Perhaps I would call him tonight and try to have a normal conversation with him instead of something that ended in an argument and me hanging up on him. 

I left the room and went out on the parking lot. Quickly, I found my car and got in, but instead of starting the engine right away, I took a moment to check my phone. Not that I was worried or anything. I already knew that Lucas hadn’t called or texted. I would have heard if he had. No news meant that he was doing alright, I knew that from experience. I quickly texted him that I was on my way home now, and then asked if I should bring something home with me, did he need anything? 

A few minutes later, he texted me back and cheekily asked for “those crackers with chocolate bits in them”. I reckoned that he was doing better, and just because I was so pleased about that, maybe I would be generous enough to actually buy those crackers he wanted. 

There was also one missed call from Delia, I noted. I would call her back when I got home. She never really wanted anything when she called. Just chat. This could wait. But I was still polite enough to text her and tell her that I had been at my arts lesson. That was why I hadn’t picked up. I also told her that I would be calling her when I got home. 

After I had answered that text, a new one from Lucas came in. Now he wanted me to buy a magazine as well. Maybe I would be kind enough to buy him that as well. 

I had just answered that text, when I suddenly was disturbed by a faint knocking sound on the window. I looked up, and to my surprise I saw the model standing outside the car. She was grinning from ear to ear. 

I was quick to roll the window down, and I frowned slightly in confusion as I looked at her. 

“Hi,” she said with another grin. The yellow flower in her hair was slightly crooked. She was wearing jeans like the last time, but this time with a very bright purple tanktop that somehow complimented her mocha colored skin nicely.

“Hello,” I said and silently wondered what this was about.

“This is for you,” she said as she without further ado thrusted a tinfoil wrapped plate of something in through the window.

“Oh,” I said, now very surprised. “I... Thank you. What is-“ 

“It’s banana pie,” she interrupted me and grinned broadly. 

“Thank you,” I repeated, but despite the gratitude, I frowned. “But why exactly are you giving me banana pie?” 

“For last time,” the young woman said easily. “Y’know... for saving my ass and all.” 

“Oh,” I said and echoed what I had just said a moment ago. “That was.... It wasn’t a problem at all. You don’t have to give me anything.” 

“I wanted too,” she said stubbornly. “Like I told ya the last time, I owed you one.” 

I couldn’t force her to believe that she didn’t owe me anything, and I certainly couldn’t ask her to take the banana pie back. 

“Thank you so much,” I said as I took the tin foiled plate from her. “That was very kind of you.” 

“No problem. I work at a café,” she chuckled. “And we’re basically drowning in pies.” 

“Well, I’m happy to help with the over production,” I joked. Lucas would be one pleased thirteen year old now. This was so much better than those crackers with chocolate he so favored. He loved pies. 

She chuckled. “Now I know where to dump the leftover pies.”

I laughed at her joke. ”Yes, I’m very open to accept any sort of pie you might have.” I had expected her to walk away now that she seemingly had done what she came for, but she didn’t. Instead she thrusted her hand in through the window like she had done with the banana pie a moment ago. 

Surprised, I took her hand. Her slender, warm fingers locked around mine for a moment. 

“I’m Bliss,” she said. “Bliss Edwards.” 

“Nice to meet you, Bliss,” I said politely and shook her hand once. 

She grinned. “I knew your name. Now you know mine as well. Seems only fair, right?” 

“Yes... I suppose it does.” 

“See you at the next lesson,” she said. Then she released my hand and gracefully walked towards her own, yellow car. So she had gotten it fixed since the last time. 

I started the engine and turned the car around. The banana pie on the passenger’s seat smelled amazing, and I reckoned that Lucas would make a speedy recovery if this pie tasted only half as good as it smelled.


	7. Chapter Seven

The banana pie was a hit. Lucas was beyond thrilled when I arrived home with the unexpected sweet treat, and he interested asked me where I had bought the pie. 

I truthfully told him that it had been given to me by the model whom I had given a lift to work. 

“That was nice of you,” Lucas said between mouthfuls of pie. 

I shrugged. “She had some car troubles. But I think she got them fixed.” 

“Too bad,” Lucas said. 

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.” 

“Yeah, but we won’t get any more pie,” he grinned. 

I shook my head. “Lucas....”

“I’m kidding,” he said and scarfed down the last bit of pie. “Relax, mum.” 

I ignored that. “How are you feeling?” I quickly leaned forward and touched his forehead. “I don’t think you have a fever anymore.” 

“The pie cured me,” Lucas proclaimed as he held up his fork. “It’s a miracle.” 

I shook my head again. 

“I think I can go to school tomorrow,” he continued. “But obviously, I would be completely sure if I had more pie...” 

“I think you can make it anyway,” I said dryly as I scarfed down the remaining bits of pie on my own plate. 

Lucas eyed it jealously, and I did my utmost to ignore it. If he unleashed his “puppy dog”-eyes, I would end up offering him the last of my pie, and it was actually a very good pie. Too good to share. 

“What did you do all afternoon?” I asked. 

“You mean for the two hours you were gone?” he teasingly corrected. “I watched three episodes of Supernatural.” 

“Supernatural?” I echoed and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you too young to watch that?” 

“Age limit says 13+,” Lucas shrugged. 

“Yes. Exactly.” 

“It’s not that bad,” he assured me. 

I didn’t say anything. I could still remember the time when he was seven years old and had woken up crying three nights in a row because he was scared of a tape with Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde he had been listening too. He claimed that Mr. Hyde was hiding in his closet, and not even a throughout search of the closet had been enough to soothe his fear. He had ended up sleeping in mine and Stephen’s bedroom for two weeks. Stephen had been away on business, so it hadn’t really been a problem, but it hadn’t been the last time he had been scared of something he had either seen on television or listening to on tape. He had been a sensitive boy. And now the sensitive boy was watching Supernatural and claiming that it wasn’t “that bad”. He was growing up so quickly. I couldn’t keep up. 

“Was it a good lesson?” Lucas asked and pulled me out of my thoughts. 

“It was,” I nodded. “It was very nice.” 

He sat up slightly in the couch. “So. When are we gonna paint the guestroom?” 

“We?” I echoed and smiled widely. “You want to help me?” 

“Sure,” he said. “I think it’s a good idea. What color do you want in there?” 

“Well, I was thinking some sort of purple,” I said and frowned slightly. “But thinking about it, maybe purple will make the room appear smaller.”

“The guestroom is pretty small, mum,” Lucas interjected. 

“Exactly,” I nodded. “So maybe a lighter color would be better?” 

Lucas was quick to find his iPhone in the pocket of his pajamas, and for a moment I thought that the conversation was boring him, and he had started texting his friends instead, but then I realized that he was googling colors and not ignoring me. 

“How about “Cyan”?” he suggested and turned the screen so I could see. 

I grimaced slightly. “I think that’s a very crass color. It almost hurts to look at, doesn’t it?” 

“Lime green?” he suggested. 

“That’s an idea,” I nodded. But it still wasn’t completely what I had envisioned when I thought of the guestroom as my studio. 

He then suggested bright pink, and I laughed as I said that that was a tad too much. The color was supposed to reflect an artist, not a little girl. 

“Red!” he exclaimed excitedly as he turned the screen to give me a look of the exact shade. “That could look really awesome in there!” 

“I don’t like red. Unless it’s for clothes,” I pointed out. 

He claimed that I was picky, and I teasingly said that he was bad at picking colors. He laughed at that. 

We had lots of fun discussing colors, and I couldn’t help but think how nice it could be if things were like this every day. There was no sign of the moody, teenage Lucas I had been met with lately. Today, he was exactly like he was before. Happy and smiling. He was my little boy again. 

We didn’t quite reach an agreement about which color the walls in the guestroom were to be, but that wasn’t a problem. It had been very nice to just sit and talk to him and discuss back and forward. 

He tried to coax me into watching an episode of Supernatural with him, but I was quick to say that it was much too violent for me. He rolled his eyes at me. 

“How about Modern Family?” I suggested. Modern Family wasn’t one of my favorite series, but I was trying to meet him halfway. 

“Or how about Antiques Roadtrip?” Lucas said. 

I lifted an eyebrow as I tried to determine whether he was being serious or teasing me again. 

“We can watch Antiques Roadtrip,” he said and grinned a little. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re sure?” 

“Yep. I need a nap anyway,” he teased. 

“It’s not that boring,” I defended. “And it’s fun seeing them find old things and-“ I stopped talking when I saw the look he was giving me. He clearly thought I was completely absurd. 

But I didn’t bother defending myself. Instead I simply snatched the remote control from him and found the latest episode of Antiques Roadtrip. It wasn’t just Downtown Abbey I enjoyed watching. I had watched an absurd amount of Antiques Roadtrip as well, I just mostly kept quiet about it. But obviously, my Netflix account completely sold me out and revealed my “dark” secret to Lucas.

I think Lucas was amused as we watched the show together. And I knew that I probably was much too interested in watching as the “hunters” went into antique stores and found strange trinkets. 

“Imagine finding a painting and then discovering that it’s worth a million bucks,” Lucas commented. 

I chuckled slightly. “I believe that’s a bit unlikely, but it’s a nice thought, I’ll give you that.” 

“What would you do if you had a million bucks?” Lucas continued and coughed once. 

I reached for his glass of water and handed it to him. “I would...” I considered it. What would I do if I had a million dollars? Buy another house? No. I knew our house was already considered to be very nice. Buy a new car then? No, not that either. Our car was almost brand-new. 

“I think I would put them in a bank account,” I said finally. “And wait until I knew what to buy.”

“Boring,” Lucas half-laughed. “I would buy a car. That way I would have one when I turn sixteen and get my driver’s license.” 

“That’s very sensible,” I said, but deep down I was panicking at the thought of Lucas behind a wheel. And it wasn’t because I didn’t trust him. I did. I knew he would be a very sensible driver. It was the other drivers I didn’t trust. The way people were driving nowadays... I almost clicked my tongue. People were so reckless when driving. I had seen many cases of road rages. I looked at my son. Why can’t he just continue to ride his bicycle?

The idea that he at one point would grow up and take drivers lessons and move away from home was....

I forced myself to look at the television screen and stop thinking so much. This was still way out in the future. Lucas was only thirteen still. 

And he was currently conked out on the couch. I smiled a little at the sight. The flu still had a fairly tight grip on him. Despite his previous proclamations about being “cured by pie”, there was a fair chance that tomorrow would be another sick day for him. I wasn’t about to send him to school if he still was under the weather. 

I ended up muting Antiques Roadtrip and found my sketchbook and a pencil. I didn’t really think much about it. I simply began sketching my sleeping son. I knew he probably would consider it to be “creepy”, but how else was I supposed to do it? He wouldn’t voluntarily model for me. I had to play dirty. 

I did a decent job at painting him as well. It wasn’t just when I was sitting in a room with other art students, I could paint people. And it wasn’t just the model I could paint. What was her name again? I bit slightly in the pencil and frowned slightly as I tried to remember. She had told me her name, I was sure of that. The problem was just that I was quite bad at remembering names. 

The tip of my pencil scratched lightly against the paper as I outlined Lucas’ face and tried to get his expression right. He looked so contend right now. Younger, somehow. Peaceful. Almost blissful. I chuckled quietly to myself. How could he be anything else when his stomach was full of banana pie? 

Bliss, I suddenly remembered. Bliss Edwards. That was the model’s name. Quite the unusual name. You didn’t meet many people named Bliss nowadays. Even though I didn’t know her, I couldn’t help but think that the unusual name fitted her. She seemed like a Bliss. 

I leaned back slightly in the couch and tried to make myself more comfortable. I had an inkling, I was gonna sit here a while. Why not make the most of it? I wriggled my feet out of my shoes and crossed my ankles. Antiques Roadtrip was long forgotten. I wetted my lips slightly and frowned in pure concentration as I kept sketching. This was a fine way to christen my brand-new sketchbook. 

Lucas was still feeling a bit poorly the next day, so I kept him home from school. He didn’t seem very upset by that. He actually seemed relieved. 

And I didn’t mind having him home. It made for a nice change. Obviously, it wasn’t nice that he was sick, but having him in the house was nice. I had finished my sketch of him last night. And I had showed him the result. As expected, he rolled his eyes and told me it was “creepy” to sketch him when he was asleep, but in the same breath, he told me it was a good picture. I chose to take that from the conversation and ignore the “creepy” part. 

I spend that morning ensuring that Lucas was contend and never without chamomile tea. He grimaced at that. Exactly like Stephen, he didn’t like tea very much. But today, he had no other choice but to drink it. It helped with soothing his sore throat. 

“Tomorrow I’m going to school no matter how I feel,” he deadpanned. “Anything to escape this damned-“ 

“Ahem!” I cleared my throat loudly. 

“This tea,” he amended. “It tastes horrible, mum!” 

“That may be, but it’s good for your throat,” I brushed him off. “Drink all of it.” 

He made a point of making the most exaggerated grimaces as he slurped the tea. 

I laughed at him. My son, the comedian. Then I poured myself a cup of tea and took a sip of it. Voluntarily. 

Lucas made another horrible grimace. 

I checked my watch. It was just after eleven. Before I knew that Lucas would be home from school again, I’d had plans for this late morning. 

“I was thinking about going for a run after I finish my tea,” I said. “Will you be alright on your own?” 

“Yep. I’m gonna watch Supernatural,” Lucas said matter of factly. 

“Or you could take a nap and rest your head,” I suggested. “Maybe that would be better than watching television.” 

He just shook his head. “No, thanks.” 

“Alright then,” I said. This was not a battle I was willing to take. And unless I brought the remote control with me on my run, I couldn’t prevent him from watching television. 

I took another sip of my tea. 

“I don’t understand how you can drink that stuff,” Lucas said and wrinkled his nose. “We’re not in England, mom!” 

I chuckled. “Perhaps not, but I’ve been drinking tea for as long as I can remember. Why change that now?” 

Lucas mumbled something about choosing tea that tasted better, but I ignored that and made a point of saying “mm!” every time I took a sip of the chamomile tea.

As I had said, I went for a run after having finished my tea. I went upstairs and changed into my yoga pants and a tanktop. I told Lucas that I would be back soon, and then I left the house. 

The air was light and summery, and even though it didn’t take long before my thighs started to ache from effort, it felt good to be running. I was taking care of myself. I was minding my body and staying in shape. My feet echoed slightly against the pavement. 

I had just reached Webster Rd when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I stopped and rubbed a hand over my sweaty brow. Took a moment to catch my breath. Then I found my phone in my back pocket. 

It turned out to be Stephen. He was informing me that he had a meeting tonight, and so he wouldn’t be able to take any calls tonight. My mouth twisted slightly as I slid the phone back into my pocket without answering the message. Not a word about Lucas or how he was doing. Not a single question about our son’s health. I knew that Stephen was busy, but still, he could at least have asked. 

I would have to talk to him about it the next time he came home. Whenever that was. He hadn’t given me an exact date, and I assumed that meant that he wouldn’t be home this weekend. Lucas would be disappointed. 

I panted slightly as I continued my run on Webster Rd. Perhaps Lucas and I could do something nice this weekend to make up for it. If he was feeling better, obviously. 

I had had such high hopes for this run. In my own head, I had made this to be the highlight of my day, but now I was growing more and more annoyed. Stephen could at least have asked how Lucas was doing. Surely, he wasn’t that busy. It wouldn’t have costed him time to ask about how our son was feeling today. 

When I was the most annoyed at him, I could suspect Stephen for sometimes forgetting that he had a family here in Vermont. Lately, we had been coming in secondly after his work. That was what he liked to talk about when he was home. Work, work, work, and more work. That wouldn’t have been a problem as such if he had positive things to say about it, but it was mostly negative things. He was always complaining. Then Mr. Rasmussen had made a mistake. Then his secretary had forgotten to write something down. Stephen could get almost unreasonably frustrated about human mistakes, and I didn’t understand why, because he hadn’t always been like that. When he was younger, he had been more laidback and relaxed about things. But lately, he had undergone a transformation into this annoyed, impatient man I barely recognized. 

It will get better, I told myself as I jogged down Boulder Road. Stephen had just been stressed lately. That was all. But maybe we could do something to change that. Maybe we could go on a vacation, all three of us. That would make for a nice change. 

Lucas was soon back to his usual self, and the following Tuesday he was at Trevor’s while I was at home and in the process of getting ready to drive to my arts lesson. 

I had abandoned the tight pencil skirts. What was the point of wearing such garments to an arts lesson? It would only make me uncomfortable. And then I would think about that instead of concentrating on what I was there to do. Paint. 

I shimmied into my nicest pair of jeans. The black ones Stephen had once complimented. Then I shrugged my dove grey blouse on and buttoned it all the way up. The clothes was comfortable, yet proper. I wasn’t interested in showing up for the art lesson looking like a complete slob. As to make sure that wasn’t to happen, I grabbed a grey silk scarf and tied it loosely around my neck. That looked a bit better. A bit more stylish somehow. 

But I wasn’t about to put my hair up in some ridiculously complicated style. No, I tied it back in a low ponytail. Made sure that no loose strands of hair were sticking out anywhere. Then I acted on a sudden impulse and removed the scarf from around my neck and tied it around the little hairband that held my ponytail together. The scarf tied around my ponytail somehow made a difference. Once again, I could see Ella Evans, the young art student from London. I shook my head slightly as I glanced at my reflection. It felt like it was so many years ago now. I felt completely different from the young, carefree girl I had been back then. 

But time was ticking now. I couldn’t keep standing here and dwell on old times. I was wasting time. 

I quickly slipped my high heels on, grabbed my purse and then I left the bedroom. 

Making it downstairs to the kitchen, I almost forgot what I had been intending to bring with me to this lesson. And it wasn’t my sketchbook. I had already stuffed that into my purse hours ago. No, what I had been meaning to bring with me, was the plate the banana pie had been on. It was a beautiful, bright green plate, and Bliss would most likely want that back. 

I took the newly rinsed plate and secured it under my arm as I left the house and fumbled with the key in the door for a minute or so. 

As I entered the car, my phone started to vibrate, and I took a moment to check who was calling. It quickly turned out to be Stephen. I didn’t answer it. He hadn’t exactly been reachable since he had gone to Boston, and I figured he could handle a dose of his own medicine. I had an important lesson to go to. He would simply have to wait. I waited until the phone had stopped vibrating. Then I carefully stuffed it back into my purse, switched the radio on. I had a plan about letting Mozart drowning any potential sound coming from the phone. I was still annoyed at Stephen about the way he had acted when Lucas was ill. This was only fitting. 

Mozart’s piano sonata in C played as I turned the car around and drove towards my destination. 

******************

As usual, there was already a little group of people in the room when I arrived. I smiled at Gus and Alexandra, and then I sat down at my little “painting station”. Today was charcoal, and while I preferred to work with colors, I didn’t mind that. As long as I could sit down and paint, I was satisfied. 

A moment later, Griselda Abbott came into the room, apologizing for the delay. But she wasn’t the only one who was running late for this lesson. So was Bliss, and Griselda looked more than dissatisfied and scowled when Bliss came rushing into the room five minutes after the lesson was supposed to have begun. She was holding the white robe together with one hand. 

“Sorry about that,” Bliss said sheepishly and pushed a wild curl behind her ear. Her red, polka dotted headscarf was slightly askew, I noted. 

“The traffic was-“ Bliss began, but Griselda Abbott just shook her head. 

“Yes, alright,” Griselda said and brushed Bliss’ apology off. “Please disrobe so we can get started. We’re five minutes behind.” 

“Right. Gotcha,” Bliss said as she unceremoniously shrugged her robe off and threw it on the floor. Then she got into position on the cheap looking couch that had been brought into the room for today’s lesson. Bliss bent one arm and propped her head up by resting her chin in her hand. She was facing us, and I was quick to find the sketchbook in my purse. We were running a bit late, so every second counted. My gaze dropped instinctively to her feet, and I almost chuckled. Lime green nail polish was what she had chosen today. Lime green with some sort of glitter. Another bold choice. My gaze wandered up to her hands, and once again, I had to keep my amusement at bay. Turkish. That color really suited her. It somehow matched her mocha skin color. It was almost a pity we were working with charcoal today. I would have enjoyed to add the colors to her nails. 

I began sketching. Drawing her almost felt natural now. I was starting to get the “feel” of her more and more. The shape of her body was starting to feel familiar in my sketchbook. And I was definitely starting to get over the fact that she was naked. At first, my prudish nature had bid me to make a scene over it, but now I didn’t feel one bit squeamish about it. We were all professionals. There was nothing weird about it. Not even if I hadn’t dabbled into it during my time as an art student. 

Today I was succeeding in drawing her hair. Due to sheer effort, I got charcoal all over my fingers, and I smiled to myself. Another memory of a younger version of myself scrubbing paint off my fingers. Those had been the days. 

I carefully outlined her lips. The little half-smirk she was displaying today. Next were her nose. Her almost ridiculously well-shaped nose. I briefly wondered whether I would be happier if my nose were as perfect as hers. Then her eyes. Her coffee brown eyes. I was glad we would be working with colors the next time. Working with charcoal made me realize how much I enjoyed using colors in my portraits. 

I frowned slightly in pure concentration and wetted my lips. It was a fairly warm day, and I had forgotten to grab something to drink before I left the house. 

I was in the process of carefully sculping her cheekbones when I became aware of a faint vibrating coming from the depths of my purse. Stephen was stubborn this afternoon. Maybe I would give him a call when I got home. Or maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I would wait until tonight and let him sweat a little. Perhaps it was a little petty of me, but I felt it to be fitting. He hadn’t exactly displayed model behavior these past few days, and it was no harm to remind him of that. Maybe that would help him to remember to show more interest the next time our son was sick. My phone vibrated again. Maybe I would have to switch it off completely. I quickly looked up. None of the other painters appeared to be bothered by the sound. Perhaps I was just imagining that the sound was loud and annoying. I turned my attention back to the half-drawn sketch on the paper. My concentration had momentarily been broken, and I had to take a moment to figure out what I had been sketching before the interruption. Oh, yes. Her cheekbones. I had been in the middle of sketching her cheekbones. I quickly resumed my work, and I was very satisfied with how this portrait was turning out. For someone who hadn’t dabbled much in this type of portrait, I felt I was doing a very decent job. Admittedly, not as well as Lucas had said, but still, I was making progress. Maybe I could bribe Lucas into modelling for me. That would be an excellent way to brush up on my skill. 

Bliss shifted slightly on the couch. Wriggled her ankle a little. I couldn’t blame her. I could imagine one would go positively stiff after lying that still for almost two hours. I certainly wouldn’t have the patience to do what she was doing. I sketched the silhouette of the little gemstone in her navel, and once again I silently complained that we weren’t using colors today. The little gemstone was another little thing I would have enjoyed to color in. 

My charcoal pencil flew over the paper, and I smiled a little to myself. I was finally reaching that state where I forgot about everything and simply painted. 

Exactly like the other times, it felt as though the lesson was ending after two minutes and not two hours. Once again, time had passed much too fast. 

I almost bit back a groan when Griselda clapped her hands and said: “and I’m afraid we’re out of time for today, painters. Please leave your portraits for review on your desks.” 

Bliss rose from her position on the couch and she shrugged her robe back on. 

I carefully tore the page out of my sketchbook and left it on the desk. Then I packed my sketchbook and charcoal pencils away. And I quelled my disappointment as I did so. Why did the time always fly by   
so quickly? 

“I’ll see you all next Tuesday,” Griselda said. “Same time and place. Don’t be late.” She shot Bliss a sideway glance. 

“Duly noted,” Bliss said and offered Griselda a solemn nod. 

I quelled my amusement and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. Once again, I became aware over how warm it was in here. 

Griselda thanked us for a good lesson and then she opened the door, indicating that the lesson was over, and this room was no place to linger. 

******

On the parking lot, I said “goodbye and see you next Tuesday” to Gus and Alexandra. Then I headed towards my own car. It had been standing directly in the sunlight, and it was as warm as an oven when   
I got inside. I decided to leave the door open for a moment while I checked my phone. There were not one but four missed calls from Stephen, but no text messages. He could wait. I knew from experience that he would have texted if it was something really important. 

There was also a message from Delia. She suggested that we did something together this next Friday, and I immediately texted back and accepted that suggestion right away. Stephen wouldn’t be home this weekend, Lucas would most likely beg me to let him stay over at Trevor’s, meaning that I would be home alone. A meet up with Delia suited me perfectly. 

I concluded my message with asking Delia where she wanted to meet on Friday. Then I stuffed the phone back into my purse and adjusted the mirror slightly. That was when I spotted the bright green plate still lying on the backseat. Bliss’ plate. The one I had been meaning to return to her. 

I quickly got out of the car and opened the door to the backseat. The plate was very warm from having been lying abandoned in the car, and I almost burned my fingers when I grabbed the plate. Cursing softly under my breath, I looked around on the parking lot. There was the yellow bug. It was standing parked slightly crooked. Bliss had been in a hurry when she parked. 

I was debating whether I could walk back to the building and leave the plate with a written note for Bliss so she could find it the next time, but before I got the chance to do as much as take a step towards the building, I saw Bliss walking towards her car. 

I quickly followed her, and we reached her yellow car at the very same time. 

She looked up, and it didn’t take long before she flashed me a smile. “Ella.” 

“Hello,” I said. “I’m sorry for sneaking up on you like this, but...” I held up the plate for her to see and hoped that it was explanation enough. 

“Oh,” she chuckled. “My plate.” 

“Yes, I figured that you’d want it back,” I said as I handed said plate back to her. 

“Thanks,” she said and offered me another smile. “That was nice of you.” 

I shrugged. “I didn’t want you to be without an extra plate.” 

“Great timing,” Bliss said. “I’ve just smashed my extra-extra plate. It happened like two minutes before I had to drive here. That’s why I was late.” 

“Oh, I see,” I said and nodded. 

“Mmm, I kinda think Griselda wanted to murder me for it,” Bliss said and chuckled. 

“She wasn’t happy, I’ll give you that,” I said, “but I think murder is taking it a bit far.” 

“I swear to god, she’ll be standing above my bed tonight at three am,” Bliss said dramatically. 

I chuckled. “Let’s hope not.” 

“’Model killed by art teacher,’” Bliss mock-quoted. “Could make for one hell of a headline, couldn’t it?” 

“Yes, it certainly could,” I agreed with a slight nod. 

Bliss chuckled again and pushed an unruly curl behind her ear. “Anyway, thank you for bringing my plate.”

“But of course. It wasn’t a problem.” 

“Did you like the pie?” she asked and weighted the plate in her hand. 

“It was a very good pie. I had two pieces, and I never eat two pieces of anything,” I revealed. 

“Maybe I should bring you some more then,” she said and grinned. “The world needs more pie.” 

“I’m fairly certain my son would agree with that,” I said and returned her smile. 

Bliss pushed another lock of hair behind her ear. Or, she tried to. It didn’t stay there for long. 

“I saw the sketch you made today,” she said. “I don’t know much about art, but I think it was pretty spot on.”

“Oh. Thanks. I’m not that good with charcoal,” I said. “I’m better with colors.” 

“Me, too,” Bliss grinned and tugged slightly at the bright pink tanktop she was wearing today. 

I chuckled. 

“Anyway, I should get going. Otherwise I’ll end up being late for my second job,” she said. 

“Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to delay you, I just wanted to make sure you got the plate.” 

“And it was very nice of you,” Bliss said firmly and smiled. “See ya next Tuesday.” 

“Yes. See you.” 

We parted ways. She hopped into her car, and I walked back to mine. Somehow it felt good to know that she liked what I was painting. It meant a lot that the model thought the portrait was “pretty spot on”. 

I smiled to myself as I entered my own car. I was already looking forward to next Tuesday. Nothing could take away my enthusiasm. Not even the text message from Stephen, in which he asked why I hadn’t returned any of his calls. It was very possible I would have to call him when I returned home.


	8. Chapter Eight

As scheduled, Delia arrived that next Friday, and she immediately filled the house with life and laughter. Delia had always been like that. Energetic and unable to sit still for longer than five minutes. 

Something was always happening around her. There had been a time where I had found that to be annoying, but today I was grateful for her way of being. Because I had an inkling that this was exactly what I needed. 

“Home alone?” Delia commented as she shrugged off her light coat and ran a finger through her caramel brown hair. Then she gave me a quick hug.

“Yes, Lucas is spending the weekend at Trevor’s and Stephen...” I shifted my weight slightly as I returned the hug. “Well, I’m not entirely sure when Stephen is coming home, to be honest. Perhaps sometimes next week.” 

“You must be bored out of your mind then,” Delia said. 

“I had my sketchbook, so it wasn’t that-“ I didn’t finish the sentence. The look she was sending me, suggested that it had been a rhetorical question. One I was supposed to simply agree too, without protesting. 

“Yes, I was bored out of my mind,” I parroted and told her what she wanted to hear.

Delia laughed. “Good thing I’m here now then. Shall we go out and see what Shelburne has to offer today?” 

“Yes, let’s do that,” I nodded. I had counted on that when I got up this morning. I had anticipated that Delia and I would be going out for lunch somewhere and had dressed in one of my nicer skirts. The navy blue one with ruffles at the bottom. I had paired the skirt with one of my crisp, white blouses with the little buttons, and then I had gathered my honey blonde hair in a low ponytail. I looked put together, yet relaxed. 

“Excellent,” Delia said. She too looked nice today. Her black skirt was shorter than mine, and I reminded myself to ask her which tanner she used to make her legs looked so sun kissed all the time. She spun around on her heels and left the house, and I followed her outside. I didn’t bother bringing a coat. The weather was warm enough to go without. 

Delia insisted that we took her car. She claimed that the tank was completely filled, but I strongly suspected that the real reason was because she wanted to show off the new car. I couldn’t blame her. It was a very nice red Volvo she and Tom had just bought. 

“So? Any news?” Delia asked as she got behind the wheel and started the engine. 

“No, not really, same old same old,” I said. A predicable answer. Something new was rarely happening to me, so I quickly switched the spotlight onto her by asking if she and Tom had any news. 

“No, not yet,” Delia said and looked a little disheartened. 

I reached out and touched the hand she wasn’t resting on the wheel. “I’m sure it’ll happen soon enough, Delia.” 

Delia shook her head. “I’m forty one, Ella. If I was supposed to have any children, it would have happened already. I think it’s too late now.” 

“You never know what the future holds,” I said firmly. “Don’t give up.” 

“We’re not,” Delia assured me. “But we have to be realistic as well.”

“Of course.” I said and nodded slightly. After a string of boyfriends who hadn’t all been nice to her, Delia had finally found Tom. They had married, and not too long ago, they had found out they wanted children together. Delia had never wanted children, but meeting Tom had changed everything, and she so wanted to give him a child. And she was convinced that she was the reason they couldn’t conceive. Tom was thirty six while Delia was forty one. And Delia was more or less obsessed with the fact that she was five years older than him, and that probably was the reason why they couldn’t have a child. 

“We’ll keep trying though,” Delia said and smiled wickedly. “Eagerly and enthusiastically. Why not have as much fun as possible? If I do get pregnant, the hormones will probably put a damper on things.” 

“Delia,” I protested and grimaced at the non-required information.

She laughed heartedly. “I’m sorry. I just had to see the look on your face. It was golden.” 

“Well, I’m glad one of us is having fun,” I said and shook my head. 

She laughed again. 

I thought to myself that this was good for me. It was good for me to be teased, and it was good for me to spend some time with my openmouthed friend. Otherwise my sense of humor would disappear completely. 

Delia encouraged me to tell her something. Anything. So I told her about my plans for turning the guestroom into a proper studio. With lilac walls. She laughed at that but said that it was a very good idea. 

“It’s about time you start drawing properly again,” she said firmly. 

“Yes, that art class has made me realize how much I miss it.” I nodded. 

“And how is that art class going? Still shocked that the model is naked?” she chuckled again. 

“I wasn’t that shocked,” I protested vaguely. “I was just a little surprised. That was all.” 

“You almost yelled at me when you called me,” Delia deadpanned. 

“I did not,” I argued, but the protest wasn’t very genuine. I was fairly certain that Delia had a point. I had been so shocked I almost yelled at her. 

“But I’m glad to hear you’ve recovered from your surprise and that it’s going well.” 

After quickly discussing it, we ended up deciding to go to Pauline’s Café and Restaurant to have some late lunch. That suited me fine. I had been sketching for most of the day, and the thought of eating something hadn’t even crossed my mind. It wasn’t the nicest restaurant one could find in this area, but I was absolutely famished, and right now I didn’t care where I ate. As long as I got something to eat, I would be satisfied.

When I told Delia that, she laughed at me and shook her head. Told me that my new/old passion was more dangerous than what she had anticipated. I found that to be rather amusing. 

We parked in front of the idyllic old building, and Delia declared that she was absolutely starving. 

There weren’t a lot of people in the restaurant, so Delia and I could freely choose one of the larger tables. That was of course Delia’s idea. She hated small tables and not being able “to fill as much as she wanted too.” 

We ended up finding a large table right in the middle of the room, and that suited me fine. 

Delia quickly began looking through her menu and squinted slightly as she did so. She needed glasses, but I knew that she would never voluntarily admit it. “Hmm... What will you be having, Ella?”

I quickly grabbed my own menu from the slightly greasy table and looked through it. “The sandwich with turkey breast looks good.” 

“I was thinking French onion soup,” Delia said. 

I suffocated a chuckle. Of course she was thinking of French onion soup. Delia just had to be a little more extravagant than the rest of us. 

I frowned slightly as I looked at my own menu. “I’m thinking maybe a Cesar salad.” 

Delia raised an eyebrow. “Cesar salad? I thought you were famished.” 

“I am famished.”

“Then chose a larger meal. I’m buying.” 

“Oh, no, Delia, you don’t have to-“ 

“And there’s no discussion,” she interrupted me. “You have to let me pay sometimes. You always pay.” 

I shook my head in protest. I was not paying all the time. “You’re wrong. I don’t always pay for our meals.” 

Delia didn’t agree. I could see that from the way she was rolling her eyes and shaking her head at me. 

“I don’t,” I said as to make sure she understood that I was being serious about it. 

She still wasn’t convinced and offered me a raised eyebrow and a nonchalant “right.”

“Delia...” I said warningly. 

She just flashed me one of her smiles. One of those smiles that suggested that she knew better than I. I had been exposed to that smile quite a few times during our friendship, and I still hadn’t found the way to wipe it off her face. And it still annoyed me endlessly.

We continued to discuss that particular topic, and I was plain refusing her statement that I was paying for our lunches all the time. We could most likely have kept the discussion up and going for several   
hours if it hadn’t been for the interruption. Someone cleared their throat very close to our table, and Delia and I were forced to abandon our little discussion when the waitress asked: “are you guys ready to order?”

I was quick to look up. I recognized that voice. 

Bliss flashed me a big smile as she looked up from her notepad. “Ella. Hi.” 

“Hello, Bliss,” I said and returned her smile. I had completely forgotten that she was working here. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said and chuckled, shook her head slightly and made the baby blue scarf she had tied around her wild curls bounce slightly. “Anyway, are you ready to order?” 

“I think so,” Delia said. “I’ll have the French onion soup.” 

“And I’ll have the Cesar salad,” I said. 

“Okay. And what will you have to drink?” Bliss asked as she scribbled our orders down. 

“Water.” 

“Wine,” Delia corrected. “Ella will have a glass of wine, and I’ll have the water.” 

“Alright,” Bliss said and smiled. “I’ll come down with your drinks in a sec, and your food should be here soon.” 

“Thank you,” we both said in unison, but as soon as Bliss had left, I looked at Delia. “Wine, really, Delia?” 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re not driving, and I have an inkling that it’s been a while since you last had a glass of wine. Isn’t that correct?” 

I didn’t answer that, but of course she was right. 

Delia chuckled triumphantly and glanced back at Bliss who was now standing behind the counter. “You know the waitress?” 

“I think that’s a stretch,” I said. “I’ve talked to her at the art class.” 

“Oh. A fellow arts-student,” Delia chuckled. 

“Yes.” I settled for simply saying. Of course I could have told Delia that Bliss was in fact the live art model, but I saw no reason to reveal that in a restaurant. And Bliss was our waitress. I didn’t think that she was embarrassed about her other job or anything, but still, I didn’t see any reason to announce it. 

Delia and I hadn’t talked for long before Bliss came back to our table with one glass of wine for me, and one glass of water for Delia. 

“Here you go,” Bliss said and smiled at the both of us. 

“Thank you,” I said and returned the smile. Today she was wearing a white, sleeveless, belted dress with butterfly prints all over. And she had put on a little nametag that said “Hi, I’m Bliss.” She had clearly forgotten to put the nametag on before, and for some reason, that silly little nametag made me smile.

“Food should be here in a moment,” she said briskly. 

“We’re not in a hurry,” Delia quipped, and both Bliss and I chuckled at that. 

After Bliss had walked away from the table, Delia raised her glass. “A toast.” 

“To what?” I asked and raised my eyebrow as well as my own glass. 

“There doesn’t have to be an occasion,” Delia scoffed. “Now toast with me.”

I laughed as I did that. This was nice. It was nice spending time with Delia, and it was nice sitting here and toasting to “nothing in particular”. 

“So, you don’t know when Stephen is coming back this time?” Delia asked and took another sip of her water. 

“No, but I’m guessing next weekend,” I said and sipped my wine. “And I believe that’s a good thing. He’s been very difficult lately.” 

“Difficult?” Delia echoed and raised an eyebrow. “How so?” 

“Short with me,” I said. “And almost uninterested in Lucas.”

“Ah, that sounds like something I’ve heard before,” Delia said and nodded slightly. 

“Mmm,” I said and took another sip of my wine. Stephen’s fluctuating mood was an “old song” so to speak, and throughout the years, Delia had heard me talk about it many, many times. 

Maybe too many times. I wasn’t interesting in turning this lunch into one big complain.

“But that’s not interesting,” I said and tried to sound brisk and upbeat. “Let’s talk about you instead. Tell about your job. How is that going?” 

Delia was more than happy to tell me about her job, and I was relieved. Talking about me wasn’t all that interesting. I was the same old Ella. Nothing new there. 

The lunch with Delia gave me a much needed boost, and I was full of energy for the rest of the weekend. I did some more color testing, and I was getting closer and closer to knowing exactly which shade of purple I was gonna use for the wall in the guestroom. I also cleared the desk and moved my newly bought pencils into the guestroom/studio. I was most likely gonna need a smaller desk, though. The room was pretty small, and once I brought an easel in here, I could imagine that it probably would look fairly cramped. But that didn’t throw me off in anyway. It was all about using the room in a sensible manner. 

While I was still in full swing in the guestroom, my cellphone ringed. It turned out to be Stephen. He called to inform me that he was coming home not next weekend, but the weekend after that. There was a new crisis in the company. 

I tried not to let that get to me as I gave my usual response and said “alright”. But to be truthful, I felt as though he was spending more and more time away from me and Lucas. Normally, I would only have gotten upset for our son’s sake, but this was putting a strain on our marriage. We desperately needed to spend some time together. I clung to the hope that we would at least see each other next month. We were going to celebrate our wedding anniversary then. Twenty one years. That was quite the accomplishment. Especially since my mother had claimed that we were only gonna last two years. I hoped that our wedding anniversary would be the perfect occasion to re-ignite that spark between us. We were gonna send Lucas over to Trevor, and then Stephen and I would go out and have dinner at a nice restaurant. That was what we did every year, but I wanted this time to be different. This year, I wanted a cellphone free evening where Stephen and I just talked. Not about the company, not about Lucas, but actually talked. To each other. I wanted to find back to the man who had swept me off my feet when I was twenty and married me when I was twenty two. And I wanted to find back to the version of myself who had fallen head over heels in love with Stephen. Because I knew she was there. She just needed a little help to be coaxed out in the open. 

After ending the call with Stephen, I went back to re-decorating the guestroom. Come Monday, I would buy some more lilac paint and then I would paint those walls once and for all. I felt very optimistic about this project, and I firmly ignored the little voice in the very back of my head that spitefully told me that I was being entirely too happy about this project. Was this really what my life had come to? 

Was I really this desperate? 

I pushed the annoying little voice out of my head and firmly reminded myself not to sound like my mother. This was a not a sad project. This was a good thing. I would start to paint more. This was heading in a very positive direction. I had no business being so negative about it. 

On Tuesday, I excitedly got into my car and drove towards the well-known destination. The place where the art lessons were happening. Those lessons had really become somewhat of a light in my life, and I tried not to think too much of what would happen when the art lessons ended come fall. I would just have to continue the good work at home. 

This time, everyone, including Bliss was right on time, and Griselda clapped her hands and encouraged us to “find our seats”. 

I was the first one to find my seat, and I didn’t care about coming across as the over eager student anymore. It didn’t bother me. Even before Bliss had disrobed, I had found my sketchbook and pencil and was ready to start the lesson. 

After a bit of muttering and pottering about, so was the rest of the class, and Bliss shrugged her robe off and once again bared her caramel skin to us. She sat down on the chair Griselda had brought into the room. She elegantly crossed her ankles, let her hands rest lightly in her lap, and then she lifted her head to look at us. Her expression was a little different today, I noted. She looked alerted and interested. And, I chuckled quietly to myself. Her nail polish was different as well today. Burned orange. I briefly glanced down at her bare feet. Bottle green nail polish on her toenails. Ever the bold one. 

I swallowed my grin and bowed my head over my sketchbook. Now was the time to concentrate, not wonder about her choice of nail polish. Even though it was a bit of a mystery. 

I allowed my thoughts to wander as I began sketching the model in front of me. It was comforting. No one demanded anything of me right now. I could just sit back and paint. For two hours, I could pretend that I was a professional painter and not a bored housewife who had to fold the laundry when she got home. 

Which reminded me that I would have to look for one of Stephen’s ties when I got back. His navy one. It had been missing for days now, and I still didn’t understand where it was, or how it had gotten lost in the first place. There was a mystery for me to solve when I got back. 

Scratch-scratch. The sound of my pencil against the thick paper in my sketchbook was comforting as well. The faint smell of the charcoal we had used last week was still hanging in the room, and I was transported right back to my old school in London. There had been one time where I had managed to get paint in my hair. Stephen had helped me wash it out. My pencil momentarily stilled against the paper. I couldn’t remember the last time he and I had taken a shower together. 

But right now wasn’t the time to get melancholic about the past. Now was the time to paint. I looked up at my motive. Bliss hadn’t moved an inch. She hadn’t even moved that wild curl that was dangling in front of her face. Her coffee colored eyes were looking between us. Never fixated on one person for too long. It was as though she was watching every single one of us at the same time. Maybe she was observing us as much we were observing her. A little smile lingered on her lips, and I briefly wondered what she was thinking about. She almost looked amused. Like she was thinking about an old joke or something like that. Once again, I admired her for what she did. That she could be this relaxed and think about something amusing while an entire room where sketching her nude body. I didn’t quite understand how anyone could just get used to be naked in a room full of strangers. She was so relaxed and casual. Like it was no big deal to take her clothes off and allow a bunch of amateur artists to sketch her. 

You’re not painting, I reminded myself and quickly bowed my head to resume my work. The scratching from my pencil against the paper began anew, and I silently scolded myself for wasting this precious time. Observing Bliss wouldn’t exactly turn this into a finished portrait. In order to finish, I would have to keep painting. 

*****************************

And paint was exactly what I did. Until Griselda much too soon clapped her hands and declared this lesson to be “done for today.” 

Disappointment gnawed in me as I dawdled with packing up my things. How could we already be done? I had just gotten here. 

I took so long with packing my things, that by the time I was finally done, it was only Alexandra, Gus and Bliss left in the room. Alexandra was busy checking her phone, but Gus had engaged in a   
conversation with the still robe-wearing Bliss. They were chatting briskly, and from what I could see, he was very interested in conversing with her, he was laughing and smiling. I could understand that. 

Bliss was a charming young woman, and Gus was a nice young man and roughly around Bliss’ age, I reckoned. They probably had many things in common. 

I finally gathered the rest of my stuff and slung the back over my shoulder. Then I left the room. I didn’t really want too, but I had no other choice. I had laundry waiting for me. 

But once I got outside, I wish that I didn’t. The weather was incredible. Definitely too warm to be stuck inside. I closed my eyes against the sun for a moment. Maybe I would sit on the porch and sketch for a few hours before doing the laundry. That sounded like a good plan. And even better if I was able to coax Lucas outside. Heavens know he didn’t get enough fresh air, but I didn’t know how to make him to outside without using brute force. He preferred spending time indoors. And preferably in front of his laptop. I wasn’t exactly worried about it, but I definitely didn’t like this development in his behavior. 

I wanted him to spend more time outside. Maybe we should get a dog. Perhaps that could coax him outside. But then again, a dog craved so much. I would be housebound because of it. 

Oh, well. I would have to think of some other, creative way to make Lucas go outside. I just wasn’t sure of the method yet. 

I finally stopped my musings and resumed my walk towards my car. I could already hear the laundry calling for me.

“Ella!” 

I stopped in my tracks. That was definitely not the laundry calling my name. I wasn’t going completely mad. Not yet, at least. I turned around to see what this was about. Bliss was coming towards me. She had replaced the robe with a pair of denim shorts and a grey t-shirt with a faded Star Wars logo. And a yellow headband. 

“Hi,” she said and panted slightly as she caught up with me. 

“Hello,” I said. 

“I feel totally rude for asking, but any chance you wanna give me a ride again?” she asked. 

Only now I noticed that her little yellow bug wasn’t on the parking lot today. Her car had clearly broken down again. 

“I can walk, obviously, but that would totally muck up my schedule, and-“ 

“I can drive you,” I interrupted. “It’s no problem.” 

Bliss looked completely relieved at that. “God, thank you. Thank you so much. You’re saving my life. Again.” 

I chuckled as we both walked towards my car, and then I briefly wondered why she hadn’t asked Gus to give her a ride. Perhaps it was because she had talked more with me than him. She didn’t know him that well yet. 

“Pauline’s Café and Restaurant?” I guessed as I climbed onto the driver’s seat, and Bliss arranged her long legs on the passenger’s seat. 

“Yeah,” Bliss said and puffed out air. “My car chose to die on me. Again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“I probably ought to get a mechanic to take a proper look at it but paying off my student loans ranks a bit higher on the list,” Bliss said. 

I nodded. I completely understood that. 

There was a moment of silence between us. I switched the engine on and steered the car away from the parking lot. We were driving in the direction of Paulin’s café and restaurant, and I was just   
considering to switch on the radio, when Bliss asked: “so, what’s your favorite flavor?” 

“Excuse me?” I said confused. 

“Pie flavor,” she clarified. “I need to know what kind of pie to bring you the next time. As a thank you.” 

“Oh.” Now I was chuckling slightly. “You don’t have to give me pie. I don’t mind driving you. It’s not a problem.” 

“Maybe not, but the idea that you’re doing this for free icks me,” said Bliss and batted a curl away from her face. “I want to do something in return. So... Which flavor?” 

“I don’t suppose I can get away with saying that you don’t need to give me anything?” 

“That’s correct,” she grinned.

“Blueberry then,” I said. “I like blueberry tart.” 

“Gotcha. One blueberry pie will be hand-delivered to you next Tuesday,” Bliss said and laughed. 

“That sounds good. I’m certain my son will appreciate it.” 

“Just don’t let him eat all of it,” Bliss half-warned. “The pie’s for you.” 

“I’ll make sure to tell him that,” I vowed. 

“Good.”

I had just moved the car around a corner when I heard a faint sound coming from my phone. It could very well be Lucas. He had promised me to report back on whether he would be studying at Trevor’s or not. While we were waiting for green light, I thrusted one hand into my purse and wrestled the phone at the very bottom of the purse. Bliss raised an eyebrow at my struggle. “You know, I still don’t understand how some women manages to fit everything into a purse. I need a bag similar to the one a polar scientist would use in order to bring everything I needed.” 

I smiled a little. “I suppose it’s just a question of squeezing things the right way.”

“Mmm, that’s what she said,” Bliss said and laughed heartedly. 

I shook my head. “Wow. I really sat myself up for that one, didn’t I?” 

“Kinda. Yeah. Or maybe it was just my crappy sense humor,” Bliss said, still grinning. 

I chuckled. I didn’t find her humor to be one bit “crappy”. Quite the contrary. 

Bliss stretched her long legs. “What are you doing when you’re not painting?” she asked and shot me a sideway glance. “You a hotshot lawyer, or a doctor?” 

It was my turn to splutter slightly. “Why do you think that?” 

She shrugged. “Your clothes... I dunno. It was an educated guess.” 

“Not educated enough, I’m afraid,” I said and quelled a sigh. “I’m not doing anything. Apart from raising my son.” 

“Well, that’s a pretty important job, isn’t it?” Bliss said. 

I nodded. “What about you? What are you doing when you’re not modelling or work at the restaurant?” 

“I finished college two months ago,” Bliss said. “Art. I’m kinda hoping to use my exam for something, but right now I need a break.” 

“You’ve studied art?” I said, delighted over finding this similarity between us. 

“Yeah, I did, but right now I just need a break. A year where I just work my ass off and make as much money as possible,” Bliss said. 

“Where did you go to college?” I asked interested. 

“Chicago. By the end of it I was going nuts. I needed to go somewhere quiet. That’s why I came to Shelburne.” 

“Well, you won’t find a quieter place than that,” I said, only partially joking. 

“You’ve lived there for long?” 

“Thirteen years.” 

“Wow. Where did you live before?” 

“New York,” I replied as we reached another corner. 

“And you never miss the big city?” 

“Occasionally,” I said. Not completely truthfully. I probably missed “the big city” more than I cared to admit. 

“But hey, Shelburne is the perfect place to raise a kid, right?” 

I chuckled slightly. “Sometimes I think even Lucas is tired of Shelburne.” 

“How old is he?” 

“He’s thirteen and growing up entirely too fast,” I said and pursed my lips slightly. “I’m afraid his old mum can’t quite keep up.” 

“Old?” Bliss echoed and turned her head to look at me. 

I shrugged as best as I could behind the wheel. “I’m chattering on. I’m sorry. Just ignore me.” 

But Bliss didn’t ignore me. Instead she said: “Since when is being in your thirties considered old?” 

“Thirties?” I repeated and laughed. “I’m not in my thirties.” 

“Really? Could have fooled me,” Bliss said nonchalantly. 

I laughed a bit dryly. “You don’t have to flatter me just because I’m giving you a lift to work.” 

Bliss laughed too. “That would have been hella smart of me, but I actually weren’t. I thought you were in your thirties.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s nice of you.” 

A moment later, I pulled up in front of Pauline’s Café and Restaurant, and Bliss elegantly hopped out of the car. 

“Thank you so much for the ride,” she said as she turned around and looked at me. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“I’ll make sure to bring a blueberry pie next Tuesday.” 

I smiled a little. “The world doesn’t come to an end if you don’t. I don’t need any thank you’s.” 

“I want too,” she insisted. 

“Very well then.” 

She flashed me a smile. “See you at the next lesson, Ella.” 

“Yes. See you then.” I returned her smile. 

Bliss offered me a slight wave, and then she disappeared into the restaurant. 

I took the opportunity to check my phone. It was Lucas. He would indeed be studying at Trevor’s. Which meant I would be on my own. Again. 

I sighed a little as I started the car once more.


	9. Chapter Nine

“Goodbye, then. I’ll call you tomorrow night when the dinner is over. It might be a bit late.” 

“Very well. Goodbye,” I said and wondered whether I should add an “I love you”. It had been a while since I had last done that. 

But before I got the chance to do anything, Stephen ended the call, and I heard a faint click in the other end. 

I sighed quietly. This time, I had barely gotten the chance to greet him before he had started talking. No, not talking. Complaining was a more accurate description. Once again, this and that had been wrong with his employees. Rasmussen was hopeless. Williams was hopeless. Even Gregory Marsh, Stephen’s most trusted employees and personal friend was hopeless. The only one who kept the company afloat, was seemingly Stephen. He was the only one who knew what he was doing. Or so he claimed. 

As I put the phone down, I wondered why he had called me in the first place. What had been the actual purpose of this conversation? 

He had talked. 

I had listened. I had barely gotten the chance to greet him before he had started complaining. 

He had very briefly asked about Lucas and how he was doing. Mainly how he was doing in school. Good grades were important, he said. I agreed with him, but the difference was that I didn’t think that good grades were everything. I could think of things that were more important. Good, solid friendships for instance. 

And this time, Stephen hadn’t asked me a single thing. No “how are you doing” or “what are you doing”. That disappointed me more than it probably should, because this wasn’t the first time Stephen had forgotten common curtsey. 

Oh, well. He would be back next Friday, and I was hoping we could use the weekend to plan our anniversary. Twenty one years. Maybe not as special as twenty years or twenty five years, but it was still something that was worth celebrating. Something to remember. I still had high hopes for that evening. I hoped Stephen and I could re-connect. Find each other again, so to speak. 

I brought the phone back with me upstairs. For once, I was in fact in the middle of something. For once, Stephen had interrupted me. 

Upstairs in the guestroom, my paintbrush and the bucket of bright, lilac paint was waiting for me. I had finally decided on a color. I had determined that repeatedly going back and forward between colors was silly. If I kept considering, I would most likely never get around to actually buy the damned paint. 

With the back of my hand, I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. The navy blue scarf I had tied around my head this morning, wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping my hair in place. Either my hair   
was too thick, or the scarf was too thin. Probably the second option. 

I looked around in the guestroom. There wasn’t a lot of space in here, but I firmly kept telling myself that it was fine. I had moved the spare bed out in the hall while I was painting, and the two, large armchairs in here could be replaced with smaller ones. 

It wasn’t a professional art studio with lots of light and large windows, but it was better than nothing. And once I got my newly bought easel in here, it would be even better. 

At least that was what I told myself as I picked up my phone and found a concert with Mozart to have some entertainment while I was working. Once the music was playing, I picked up the brush and resumed my work. My paint strokes were a bit more aggressive, I noted. The conversation with Stephen was clearly annoying me more than I had first assumed. 

I took a deep breath as I reminded myself to be more careful. I had covered the carpet and everything else in here sufficiently, but still, there was no reason to potentially spill paint. I shouldn’t let the conversation with Stephen get to me like this. I was turning it into something it wasn’t. Stephen was just overworked and tired. But everything would get better once he got back, and we went out to celebrate our anniversary. 

And in the meantime, I had the preparation of the studio to look forward to. And of course my art lessons. The highlight of my week. The most important thing. 

I stilled with the paintbrush in my hand. Was that pathetic? Was the way I clung to the art lessons like they were a lifeline deep down just sad? Was it simply a middle aged woman’s sad attempt at doing something else with her life? Had I seriously turned into one of those women who suddenly had to re-invent themselves completely just because they one day had woken up and realized they were past forty?

I resumed my painting project. I didn’t want to think too much about that. I was afraid of which conclusion I would reach. 

The next day, which happened was a Monday, I was as usually home alone and bored out of my mind. Lucas was at school. Stephen was in Boston. Delia was at work and probably didn’t have time for a chat right now. 

Even though I didn’t really want to, I was just about to force myself upstairs to change into yoga pants and a tanktop to go for a run, when my phone rang. 

I quelled a small sigh when I recognized the number on the screen. I briefly considered to ignore the call, but I knew that she would try again and again throughout the day if I did that. Might as well get it over with. 

“Hello, Allison,” I said as I picked up the phone. 

“Hello, Ella,” Allison said in the other end. “I hope I’m not interrupting you?” 

“No, not at all,” I lied as I sat down once more. This could take a while. It always did whenever Stephen’s mother called. It was a huge cliché, but she and I didn’t get along very well. She had never done anything to hide what she really thought: Stephen could have done so much better. That her son never should have married an art student. She had a certain way of saying “art student”. She always made   
it sound like it was something filthy and taboo. And there was something else as well: I had been married to Stephen twenty years. Twenty one next month, and yet she still made it sound as though I was her son’s new wife. Allison had been completely in charge over Stephen’s life. She had been the one to call the shots. The one who decided when and where and who. She had even set Stephen up with a woman, and she had probably hoped that Stephen would have married her. But then Stephen had met me. Allison had been furious when he and I had announced our engagement. In fact she had done everything to ruin our engagement party. For a while, that had caused a rift between her and Stephen, but eventually, mother and son had reconciled. But it didn’t change the fact that Allison still didn’t like me. And it didn’t change the fact that some of the things she had said over the years had gotten to me. That I had been “Stephen’s way of rebelling against her”, for example. Back then, I had firmly denied that, but now I wasn’t as certain anymore. Stephen had been happy when I had accepted his proposal, but now I knew that there had been something else in his smile as well. Triumphant. I hadn’t seen it at the time, but I had realized it later on, and suddenly Allison’s words didn’t feel like utter nonsense anymore. 

Allison started the conversation by asking me what I was doing. I answered her truthfully and told her that I was about to head out on my daily run. She answered that by commenting on how important it was for women “in a certain age” to maintain their appearance, and I thought to myself that that was the first shots she had fired in this conversation. 

Then she asked how Lucas was doing. Once again, I truthfully answered that he was doing well. She answered that by asking how his school was going. Was he getting better at math? 

I sighed quietly and pinched the bridge of my nose. Allison and I only talked maybe once a month, but it was still too often, and I felt incredibly tempted to tell her that it wasn’t any of her business. 

I didn’t do that though. Instead I told her that Lucas was doing just fine and getting better at math every day. 

She was pleased to hear that, and then she proceed to ask what plans Stephen and I had for our anniversary. I suspected that was the real reason she was calling me. I told her that we were planning on going out to a restaurant and have dinner. I could sense that she wasn’t pleased with that. She didn’t say so directly, but I could almost see the scowl on her face. 

Then she proceeded to invite Stephen and Lucas and I to her birthday, which also happened to be next month. I had no problem with imagining that either. A huge get together in their large farmhouse in Ludlow. All of Allison’s “high class” friends would be present. Allison would pretend all night. Pretend that I was her favorite daughter in-law and be so subtle about her little pinpricks that no one except for me would notice it. 

“Ella? Did you hear my suggestion?” Allison asked in the other end. 

“Yes, of course,” I said quickly. “It sounds nice, but I don’t know about Stephen’s schedule, so I think it would be better if you ask him.” 

Allison laughed sweetly, falsely in the other end. “I’m asking you, dear.” 

Her little laughter positively made my skin crawl, and I pinched the bridge of my nose again. “Well, I’m sure Stephen will make room in his schedule to come home and celebrate your birthday, Allison.” 

“Excellent,” Allison said. “Then I’ll be looking forward to seeing all of you. It’s been too long.” 

Not long enough, I thought to myself as I agreed to it and promised to ask Stephen about it first thing. 

“Goodbye then, Ella dear,” Allison chirped in the other end. 

“Have a nice day, Allison,” I said diplomatically as we ended the call. I finally was able to put the phone down, and I thought to myself that I was more patient than I gave myself credit for.

I wasn’t completely sure how she managed to do it, but Allison had a certain way to make me feel completely drained even after the shortest phone conversation. My mother in law was a “vampire”. She fed of off other people’s energy and left them completely squashed. 

I did as my mother-in-law had requested and send my husband a text in which I told him about his mother’s plans for celebrating her birthday next month, and then I asked him to check his calendar and be sure to make room for it. 

I didn’t expect him to give an answer right now. He was most likely held up in his office with something. 

I went upstairs and did what I had originally planned to do when Allison had called. I changed into a pair of yoga pants, a tanktop, tied my running shoes snugly around my feet, pulled my hair back into a ponytail and found my headphones in the bedside drawer. Then I went back downstairs and grabbed my phone from the table. I spent a few moments on searching for something to listen to, and after a bit more dawdling, I decided on a podcast this time. I had recently begun listening to “The Jealous Curator”, and now it was turning into somewhat of an addiction. 

I left the house and began my run, but as opposed to the other times, the podcast didn’t make me feel soothed and focused. Once again, Allison had managed to get under my skin and push all my buttons. 

I probably shouldn’t let it get to me. I was giving it far too much attention, but I couldn’t help it. Allison always succeed in unnerving me. Her words crept under my skin like hungry beetles.

I sighed a little as I jogged down the street. It was at times like these I needed Delia to tell me to “quit being an idiot”. She too had a way with words, and I much preferred listening to her instead of my mother-in-law. 

My breath quickened and my feet were starting to ache slightly like they always did in the beginning. The first mile was always the toughest one and taking a break could be dangerous. Taking a break could sometimes mean that you ended up walking home instead, and I didn’t want to do that. I was determined to stick to my new routine and run. 

I just wished that Allison hadn’t called and disrupted my routine. She had put a damper on my relatively good mood. I was not looking forward to that birthday party next month. Everyone would flock around Stephen and ask him about the company, and Allison would be falsely sweet to me all night. The only upside about this was the fact that Lucas would be there. He and I used to send each other certain looks and raised eyebrows when the rest of the family wasn’t paying attention. We usually had quite a bit of fun doing that, and it had gotten me through a family party with the Benson’s many, many times. 

I would get through it this time as well. Of course I would. I just weren’t completely sure how. I quickened my pace once again and up the volume on the podcast. 

The next day, I was relieved when it was finally time to get into the car and go to the art-lesson.

I hadn’t been sleeping much that night. Instead I had laid awake and thought about that ridiculous birthday party I would have to endure next month. I had thought about how I once again would feel like a stranger amongst Stephen’s family. That creeping feeling of just knowing that none of them had ever fully accepted me. Knowing that I would have to interfere more than once when one of Allison’s friends cornered Lucas and asked him how he was doing in school. How I would have to make up some sort of excuse to save him from the questions, and how he would look uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. 

Every last one of them were almost hyper focused on how Lucas was doing in school. Stephen was the oldest of four children, and he had overtaken his dad’s company. I knew that Stephen had high hopes that Lucas would “follow in his footsteps” one day, and that honestly worried me. Because suppose Lucas wanted to do something else with his life? Suppose he didn’t want to take over the company after his father? I knew how important the company was to Stephen, but if Lucas wanted to do something else, I was prepared to stand up for him. It was his life. Not Stephens. Or anyone else’s for that matter. I would support my son no matter what he chose. 

I steered the car around a corner and exhaled as I finally felt that sense of peace spread through me. It had been a long week, but now I was finally on my way to my next art lesson, and I was very excited about it. After the “surprise call” from Allison, I felt as though I needed this “therapy” now more than ever. I needed to unwind and dedicate these two hours to me, and me alone. 

A smile spread on my lips as I gradually got closer and closer to my destination. I was so looking forward to sit down and paint and allow my mind to go completely blank as I filled the canvas with bright colors. Because today we would work with canvases and color palettes. That was even better than just painting the motive in a little sketchbook. Seeing it on a canvas was always something else. It was a bit more impressive. And since we were going to work with canvases, todays lesson had been extended with an extra hour, and I would lie if I claimed that I was upset by that. The little room that smelled of old paint was beginning to feel like some sort of second home, and it was getting harder and harder to scrub all the remains of dried paint away from my hands. I always missed a few splotches here and there, and oddly enough, I didn’t even care about it. I liked it. With the old splotches on my hands, I could trick myself into believing that I still was a young art student who painted at every given opportunity, and not a bored housewife, desperate to change herself before it was too late. 

I was already known for being one of the “early birds”. Which meant that my fellow painters sometimes sweetly teased me with how punctual I was, and how I often was there ten minutes earlier than the rest of them. A few of them even called me “teachers’ pet”, and that never failed to make me laugh. I liked punctuality, but I was definitely no teacher’s pet. I liked joviality between our little class, and I was thrilled that none of them were bothered by the fact that I was somewhat older than them. None of them had ever mentioned that. They had welcomed me into their little “gang” with open arms. 

I was early today as well. Even though I had spent two minutes sitting in my car and aimlessly scrolling through my phone, I was early, and I saw very little point with hovering in my car until the rest of the class turned up. It was ridiculous. 

So, I left the car and walked out in the June sunshine. The weather continued to be sunny, and I reminded myself to start on the garden work tomorrow. New flowers had to be planted and weed had to be removed. Maybe I could bribe Lucas into helping me. 

As I entered the little “art room”, I realized that despite my habit of being early, someone had “beat” me to it today. Gus was standing by his “painting station” and chatting briskly with Bliss. She too was exceptionally early today. 

Bliss looked up when she heard someone coming into the room, and not wanting to interrupt the conversation she was having with Gus, I simply flashed her a quick smile and then quickly walked over to my own little painting station. I suddenly registered how loud the sound of my high heels were against the tiled floors. I should have worn flats, but after a weekend spend walking around in my slippers, I wanted to make sure I my feet could still fit into the heeled shoes. 

I sat down on the old wooden chair. It wasn’t very comfortable, but since we were going to paint on canvases today, there wouldn’t be a lot of time to sit down. I looked down at my high heels. Why on earth had I chosen to wear high heels when I knew that I was gonna spend two hours standing up? Sometimes my priorities were out of order. 

I reached within my large purse and found my sketchbook. I wouldn’t be needing it today, but still, it was interesting to look back at the sketches I had made so far. I could easily spot that my pencil strokes had gone from slightly rusty to more confident and while I had been shy with the colors at first, I could see that I was getting bolder and bolder. Maybe that was why I had chosen to paint the guestroom lilac. I looked down at my hands. There were still some small splotches of purple paint here and there. Faded, but still very much there. A little reminder of my hard work this weekend. I smiled.   
The purple color in the guestroom had turned out exactly like I had hoped it would. It had made the room vibrant and inviting. 

“Hi.” 

I looked up to see Bliss standing in front of my little desk. As usually, she was wearing the white robe, and once again, she had tried to tame her hair with a headband. This time, a purple one. Almost the exact same color I had used in the guestroom, I noted. 

“Hello,” I greeted and smiled. 

“So, three hours today,” Bliss said and shook her head slightly, making her curls bounce. “I’m not sure how I’ll manage to keep still for that long.” 

I chuckled a little. “You’ve managed fine so far. I’m not sure how you do it. I wouldn’t have the patience for it.” 

She snickered. “It’s therapeutic, but yeah, you’re right. Sometimes it can be a little boring. And of course there’s the risk of falling asleep. The first twenty minutes are the hardest.” 

I laughed. “Well, I’m sure Griselda would be more than happy to wake you if that was to happen.” 

“Or maybe not,” Bliss said almost musingly. “I look pretty decent when I’m sleeping, so maybe she would turn it into a sleeping beauty theme.” 

“Yes, that’s a possibility as well.” 

Bliss’ coffee colored gaze suddenly wandered down and settled on my left wrist. She frowned, and I knew exactly why. I had been a little clumsy when I was painting in the guestroom, Lucas had been a witness to my “British curse words” as he called it. I almost regretted I hadn’t worn long sleeves today. But the clear, blue sky and the sunshine hadn’t exactly invited to wear long sleeves, so covering the large bruise on my wrist hadn’t been an option when I got dressed this morning. 

“A bucket fell onto my wrist,” I admitted. 

“A bucket fell onto your wrist?” Bliss repeated, and I could tell from the look on her face that she didn’t believe me. 

“Yes. It was standing on a ladder, and I was sitting on the floor,” I explained. “It looks worse than it is, though.” It hadn’t even hurt much. I had mostly just been startled out my mind. That was why I had resolved to “British curse words”. 

“Well, most accidents happens in the home, I suppose,” Bliss nodded. “I hope there wasn’t anything in the bucket, though.” 

“The bucket was empty. Thankfully. Otherwise I would be busy cleaning the carpet instead of being here.” 

“And what was in that bucket?” Bliss asked. “Now I’m curious.” 

“Paint,” I said and chuckled. “lilac paint. It looks good on the wall, but I don’t think it would have suited the carpet.” 

Bliss chuckled heartedly at that. “Nope, probably not. You re-decorating or something like that?” 

“Sort of,” I said. “I’m in the process of turning my guestroom into an art studio.” 

“Oh. Cool,” Bliss said. “You’re getting all serious about painting again, then?” 

I laughed a little. “I don’t know about that, but I can definitely see myself painting more in the future.” 

“Nice. And do you-“ 

“Good afternoon, painters!” 

The conversation between Bliss and I were cut short when Griselda came into the room, carrying a stack of brochures. I hadn’t noticed that the other art enthusiasts had arrived while Bliss and been talking. 

“Now,” Griselda said. “We’ve got three hours at our hands today, so I’ll start with a few service announcements. The first one is that our homepage is temporarily down, so all payments for the next month   
will have to go directly through me. Which means, that if you all want to continue this class, you’ll have to bring money the next time. Actual money. Not mobile pay nor credit card. Money. Made of paper. Does everybody understand that?” 

There were laughter here and there as everyone of us quickly declared that we understood that. 

“Excellent. And for the second service announcement,” Griselda continued and held up one of the brochures. “There will be an arts exhibition happening at Burlington City Arts next month, and the leader   
of the exhibition has asked for new input. A painting drawn by a happy amateur. Anyone who wishes to sign up for this competition will have to fill out this form,” she waved the brochure. “All the submitted paintings will be assessed by a professional, and the winner’s portrait will be displayed at the exhibition next month. By the end of this lesson, I will be handing out these brochures along with the paper you’ll have to fill out.” 

Excited muttering erupted around me, and I too was interested in this. A chance to have a painting shown at an exhibition would be amazing. The opportunity of a lifetime. Surely, it would be stupid to not take this chance, wouldn’t it? 

Griselda clapped her hands. “Alright, I think that’s it for the service announcements. We better get started. Even two hours isn’t a lifetime. Chop, chop everyone.” 

More laughter and scuttling around as everyone prepared themselves for today’s lesson. 

Griselda vanished to the back of the room like she always did, and Bliss shrugged off her robe and sat down on the chair in the middle of the room. She crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap. 

She lifted her chin slightly, and then that look of completely relaxation washed over her as today’s painting lesson began. 

When the lesson was done, my feet were aching from standing up for so long, and a thin sheen of sweat had gathered at the nape of my neck, but I was very happy. Today’s painting had turned out beautifully. I knew praising your own work was often frowned upon, but today I felt as though it was appropriate. This was my best painting so far, and of course I filled out the sheet of paper that would ensure I was among the people who were entering the competition. I mostly did it for fun. Because being a part of something was fun. I was definitely not expecting anything but competing was fun. 

Griselda carefully gathered all our papers, snapped a picture of our paintings with her very complicated and apparently “high definition” camera. 

“Alright, I’ll leave all of this to our expert,” she said. “I’ll see you all next Tuesday. Don’t forget to bring money.” 

“Paper money,” Gus piped up. “Actual money made of paper.” 

Alexandra and Bliss snickered at that. 

“Yes, Mr. Hunter. Actual paper money,” Griselda said completely unbothered. “Now scuttle, will you. The cooking class will be here in twenty minutes, and I would like a chance to open the windows before they arrive. Goodbye and see you next Tuesday.” 

All of us reacted to that not so subtle hint and we started to gather our stuff. I took one last glance at my painting and smiled a little. Discreetly of course. I didn’t want to come across as someone who was full of myself. 

But that was a very good painting. My best one so far. 

“See you next Tuesday, Ella,” Gus said and smiled at me. 

“With fresh painting on our hands,” I quipped. 

He laughed at that. “Your painting’s very good. I think you’ll win the competition.” 

“Oh no,” I said and shook my head. “I’m just competing for fun.”

Gus scoffed. “You’ve totally captured the model. Everyone can see that.” 

“So have you,” I insisted. Gus’ painting was very impressive as well. And so was Alexandra’s. If anyone were to win, it had to be her. 

Gus laughed. “Believe me. You’re going to win. And when you do, you’re inviting all of us out for a drink.” 

“Deal,” I confidently agreed. It was very sweet of Gus to give me hope, but I knew I wasn’t gonna win. Alexandra would. And when she did, she invite all of us out for a drink. I would be looking forward to   
that. 

“I’m already looking forward to it,” Gus said and flashed me another smile. A slightly cheekier one. 

“Maybe you’ll end up being the one to buy the drinks,” I said and snickered. “Anyway, I should get going. See you next Tuesday.” 

“You’ve got it.” 

I left the paint smelling room and ventured out in the sunlight. I was walking faster than what I normally would do. I was on a schedule. I had to make it to the grocery store before it got too late. I had promised Lucas to make steaks tonight, and I was intending to keep that promise. He had been a bit sulky ever since I had told him about the upcoming birthday party Allison had invited us to, and I wanted to do something nice for him. Something that would soften the blow a little. 

So I didn’t exactly have the time to stop and enjoy the sunshine as I quickly walked towards my car. My feet were still aching, I noted. I should definitely have worn flats. I would do that the next time. Vanity be damned. 

I found the car keys at the bottom of my purse, and another “British curse” slipped past my lips as the central lock refused to do my bidding. The car that Stephen had insisted upon buying was nice and shiny and everything, but there was a problem. The central lock wasn’t working like it was supposed to. Sometimes it simply refused to unlock the car. I suspected that was the real reason why Stephen had been able to acquire the car for so little money. 

“Oh, that bloody...” I muttered under my breath as I pressed the key again. Brand new car, and yet the key sometimes refused to do my bidding. I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten. If I didn’t get the central lock to work, the grocery store would close, and Lucas and I would end up eating takeaway instead steaks. And while he would be thrilled about that, I would not. I was not one for takeaway. It was greasy and unhealthy, that’s what it was.

“Hey! Are you training for a marathon or something like that?” 

I turned around and saw Bliss coming towards me. Her footwear, which could only be described as “flipflops” echoed slightly against the pavement, and she was wearing a white summer dress with straps and sunflower motives printed all over the fabric. Her purple hairband was slightly askew. 

When she caught up with me, she was panting slightly, and I couldn’t quite determine whether she was doing it to mock me, or if she was truly winded. 

“You’re in a hurry,” she commented and massaged her ribs slightly. That was most definitely to mock me. 

“Yes, I am,” I confirmed. “I have to go to the grocery store before it closes.” 

“Okay, valid reason for running out on me,” Bliss said. “But don’t leave before I get the chance to provide you with some dessert.” 

“Dessert?” I echoed and raised an eyebrow. 

“Pie,” Bliss clarified and chuckled as she quickly walked towards her own car. 

Before I could do as much as blink, she was back, and she was handing me a tin foiled wrapped plate. 

“One blueberry pie hand delivered as promised,” she said. “As a thank you.” 

“Oh,” I said as it suddenly dawned on me. “Right. Thank you. You shouldn’t have done that.” 

“And you didn’t have to give me a ride, but you did, and here we are,” Bliss joked and waved the plate in the air. “Here. Take it before I drop it.” 

“That would be a shame,” I said mock seriously as I took the plate from her. “That smells amazing,” I said appreciatingly. 

“It better. I made it myself,” Bliss said and frowned as she looked down at her left hand. There was a bit of blueberry sitting on her finger. 

“Oops,” she said as she quickly brought the finger up to her lips and licked the remains of blueberry away from it. “That’s better.” 

“Thank you for the pie,” I said, momentarily distracted by her nail polish. Today’s choice was gold with lots of glitter. 

“No problem,” Bliss said easily and smiled. “It was my pleasure. And it was nice to actually make pie instead of just serving them.” 

“You made this yourself?” I said as I finally realized that she hadn’t been joking before. 

“Yep,” she confirmed. “Sometimes you get bored just being a waitress. You gotta explore other options.” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” I nodded and weighed the plate in my hand. 

There was a moment of silence where Bliss shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The nail polish on her toenails were silver. Not as bold as usually, but still fairly different. 

“You did apply for the competition, didn’t you?” Bliss suddenly asked. 

“I did,” I confirmed with a slight nod. 

“Good.” she said plainly.

I raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re good at what you do,” Bliss said with a light shrug. “I would hate if you didn’t take the opportunity.” 

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I did apply, but I don’t think I’m gonna win though.” 

“Bullshit,” Bliss said matter of factly. 

I laughed. “I believe Alexandra is the best painter amongst us.” 

“Nu-uh,” Bliss shook her head once. “She’s good, I’ll give you that, but you’re better.”

“Is the model supposed to have favorites?” I couldn’t resist teasing. 

Bliss shrugged. “I don’t know much about art, that’s true, but I have a pretty good nose for talent.” 

I smiled. “That’s very kind of you to say.” 

“That promise about giving drinks if you won...” Bliss said and grinned. “I am included, right?” 

“I think Gus is gossiping,” I said. 

“Or maybe I just have a special talent for listening on other people’s conversations?” Bliss suggested innocently. 

“I suppose that could be the case as well, yes.” 

“So?” she grinned. “Is the model invited for drinks too if you win?” 

“Well, no model, no motive,” I joked. “So yes, consider yourself invited.” 

“Awesome,” she grinned. 

“But don’t get your hopes up,” I warned. “I’m not going to win. Alexandra is.” 

“We’ll see,” Bliss said and laughed. A soft breeze lifted her hair and made it billow around her face. 

I cleared my throat slightly. “Well, I should probably leave before the store closes.” 

“Yeah,” Bliss said and pushed her hair away from her face. “Enjoy the dessert. And for god’s sake, keep the plate. It’s awful.” 

The way she wrinkled her nose while she said it, made me laugh. “I’ll keep the plate,” I assured. 

“But please let me know what you think of my baking skills,” she continued. “I’ve never actually made a blueberry pie before, and I’m afraid I might have fucked it up completely.” 

“Well, if I don’t show up for the next lesson, just assume I’ve been poisoned,” I quipped. 

“Right. I’ll turn myself in to the police if I don’t see you for the next lesson,” Bliss solemnly swore. 

“Yes. Do that.” 

She laughed sweetly. “See you next Tuesday, Ella.” 

“Yes. See you, Bliss.” 

“Try not to drop anymore buckets on your hand,” she said. 

“Try not to poison anyone with your pies,” I shot back without batting an eye. “It a horrible habit.” 

She laughed again, and this time I could sense that she was laughing at me and not with me. I raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “You’re just so... British.” 

That statement made me laugh. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t really run from that.” 

“And you shouldn’t,” Bliss said firmly. “I like your accent. It’s very distinguish.” 

“Oh, thank you. My husband constantly reminds me that I’m not in England anymore, and shouldn’t-“ I stopped abruptly. Why am I telling her this? 

I shook my head. “Anyway. I should probably get going.” 

“Yeah,” Bliss said and shot me a little smile. “See you next time.” 

“Yes,” I nodded. 

As she walked away, I turned around and pressed the key once. Fortunately enough, the central lock had decided to work, and I more or less stumbled into the car. Maybe I had been standing too long in   
the sun or something like that. 

I carefully sat the plate down on the passenger’s seat. The pie smelled amazing, and I sent Lucas a quick text, telling him that I would be bringing blueberry tart home for dessert. 

The reply from him came almost immediately, and it was filled with lots of smileys and exclamation points. 

I smiled a little as I turned the car around and left the parking lot. I was certain that Lucas was gonna love the pie, and I reminded myself to say thank you to Bliss the next time. I was fairly certain that she hadn’t “fucked up” nor poisoned the pie. If she had, it sure smelled very good for a poisoned pie. 

I switched the radio on as I drove towards the nearest grocery store. Now I had some shopping to take care off.


	10. Chapter Ten

“...So I was thinking, if you took the plane at four thirty, you could easily manage to get home and change before heading to the restaurant. What do you think of that suggestion?”

I waited, but there was no answer. 

“Stephen?” I said patiently. “What do you think of that?” 

He was quick to look up from his phone. He looked confused, so I gently repeated my suggestion. 

“Oh. Yes. Meeting you at the restaurant sounds good,” he said and nodded. 

“Taking the flight at four thirty will give you plenty of time to get home and change, won’t it?” I asked. 

He nodded and his blue eyes flickered to his phone on the table. “Yes.”

“So it wouldn’t be a problem if I booked us a table at seven o’clock?” I asked. 

“Seven o’clock is fine,” he said and took a sip of his coffee. 

“Great. I’ll book us a table then for that Saturday, then.” 

“Yes. Do that.”

I took his word for it and went into the sitting room where my laptop was standing on the table. I quickly sat down on the couch, opened the laptop and then found Rustic Root’s website. Rustic Root was a nice little restaurant not very far from here. Stephen and I had been there a few times over the years, and it was one of my favorite places. I knew that Stephen liked it too. Despite the fact that he liked to complain about the prices once in a while. 

I smiled as I booked a table for two at seven o’clock. I felt quite excited at the prospect of going out with my husband. It had been a while since Stephen and I had had the opportunity to go out and enjoy a nice meal. I was also looking forward to a night where I didn’t have to cook. Maybe it was a little extreme, booking the table a month in advantage, but I knew that Stephen would be very busy in Boston for the next long while. It was better to do it now. It was better to have everything settled instead of doing it in the very last minute. 

Plus, this gave me something to look forward to. Something I could think of and be excited about when Stephen was away.

It didn’t take long before I received an email that confirmed I had booked a table for two at Rustic Root’s that Saturday. I saved the email. Just to be sure. It was better to be safe than sorry. 

“I’ve booked us a table,” I told Stephen as I returned to the kitchen. 

“That sounds wonderful, Ella,” he said as he briefly looked up from his phone. 

I made a point of ignoring the phone in his hand as I walked over to him and placed my hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to spending a night out celebrating our anniversary, don’t you?” 

He adjusted slightly in his chair, and then his hand came up to pat mine. “Of course I do, my dear,” he said. 

“Twenty one years,” I said a bit musingly. “Where did the time go? So many things have happened.” 

“Yes, to imagine that we started in a one bedroom apartment in New York,” Stephen said. 

“I was thinking more about our son,” I said. “He’ll be fourteen before we know.” 

“Hmm,” Stephen said. “Perhaps we ought to consider college options.” 

“College?” I echoed. “Don’t you think that’s a bit soon?” 

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t harm to explore every option,” Stephen said and removed his hand from mine. 

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” I said and just agreed with him. Agreeing was easier even though I was certain it was too soon to think about college when Lucas only was thirteen. He still had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. 

“About the color you chose for the guestroom...” Stephen said.

“It’s not a guestroom anymore, Stephen. It’s my new studio,” I said briskly. “I’ve even moved my easel in there.” 

“So I’ve noticed,” Stephen said. “But where is our guests supposed to stay?” 

“We rarely have guests who stays the night,” I pointed out. 

He didn’t argue with that. Most likely because I was right, and he knew that. Instead he began talking about the birthday party his mother was having next month. Stephen cared a great deal about that, and he was talking very much about what to buy for his mother. I listened and gave him input when he took a break to have some of his coffee. I already knew that it would probably be me who ended up buying that present for his mother, so it was good to hear what he had envisioned. 

“I think it would be better if we spend the night at my mother’s house,” Stephen continued. “It’s been a while since we last did that. And when I spoke to her, she mentioned that she missed her grandson.” 

“Alright,” I said and thought to myself that this was typically Allison. Guilt tripping her son by bringing Lucas into it. Allison wasn’t that interested in Lucas. Only in knowing how he was doing in school, and I wasn’t prone to oversharing when it came to that. I couldn’t see what it had to do with her. 

“And then I’ll be flying to Los Angeles the day after the birthday,” Stephen continued. 

“Los Angeles?” I echoed and brought my empty teacup with me over to the sink. “Why are you going to Los Angeles?” 

Stephen seemed annoyed as he answered: “the meeting, Ella. The one I’ve mentioned the last time we spoke.” 

“Oh, yes. I remember.” I didn’t, but it was very possible that he, between his complains had in fact mentioned a meeting in Los Angeles. I chose to just go with it. 

“I’m going to be very busy for the next few months,” Stephen said. “I’ve had to fire Rasmussen, and he has left a mess behind.” 

“You’ve fired him?” I said and raised an eyebrow as I rinsed my used teacup. Rasmussen had been a part of Stephen’s company for almost twenty years. Him and his wife had been to visit Stephen and I several times now. I had considered them to be some of our good friends, but it was obvious that that friendship wasn’t to be anymore. Sometimes Stephen could be so cynical. 

“It was necessary,” Stephen said nonchalantly. “He was doing the company more harm than good.” 

“I see.” I found that hard to believe. Stephen’s father had known Rasmussen as well, and he had always spoken very highly of him. 

“It was a joined decision,” Stephen continued, and his voice was less nonchalant now. “All the members of the board agreed with me.” 

Of course they agreed with you. You’re their boss, I thought to myself, but I settled for humming a noncommittal answer instead. 

“And he was getting older as well!” Stephen said firmly. He clearly felt like he had to convince me that his decision had been right. “His health was deteriorating. Retirement really was the best thing for him, Ella.” 

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it was,” I said with a slight nod. Really, it was easier to just agree with him. 

He shot me a look of annoyance. “Is it really necessary to be so patronizing, Ella?” 

“I wasn’t aware that I was being patronizing,” I said, and the lie effortlessly rolled off my tongue. “Do you want some more coffee?” 

“No, thank you,” he said. “I think I’ll go upstairs and see how Lucas is getting on with his math homework.” He rose from his seat and left the kitchen. Without having brought his coffee cup over to the sink. 

I went over to the table and grabbed the cup myself. Why was it that we always ended up bickering when he was home? I was growing sick of the pattern we had been following lately. He was short with me and stressed when he was in Boston, and I was annoyed. And when he finally was home, we ended up arguing. Not major fights, we didn’t even know how to do that anymore. But little pinpricks. Little blows delivered. A remark here and there. 

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Sometimes I felt as though a good old fashioned argument was what we needed. A way to cleanse the air once and for all. An opportunity to get all the frustrations out, and then apologize and make up afterwards.

Or perhaps we just really needed that night out. A nice meal with candle lights. Maybe a different atmosphere would help. Maybe that would make us stop bickering. Perhaps we would end up talking about old times instead of annoying each other. Maybe we would end up chatting and laughing for hours while the candle lights flickered. Maybe I would look at him and remember all the things I loved about him instead of all the things that annoyed me. 

My head snapped up when I heard Lucas’ laughter float down the stairs. I smiled a little. At least he was happy. 

No, wait a minute. I stilled with Stephen’s coffee cup in my hand. That wasn’t right. No. I was happy. Of course I was. I had my son, a roof over my head, a good friend, a very giving hobby. The fact that Stephen and I were going through a rough patch was not a reason to question my happiness. All marriages had ups and downs. I had to be better at remembering that. 

Lucas laughed again, and I was glad to hear that him and Stephen were having fun. If they were having fun, Stephen wasn’t nagging him about the math. At least not right now. 

“Lucas?” I called up the stairs. 

“Yeah?” he called back. 

“What would you like for dinner?” I inquired. 

“Bacon?” he answered hopefully, and I heard him snicker. 

“Try again,” I encouraged. 

“Why? You were the one who asked me,” he pointed out, and this time I heard Stephen laugh too. 

I sighed quietly. I suppose he had a point there. But one thing was quite certain: we were not gonna have bacon tonight. No. I would think of something else. Something that was healthy but didn’t make Lucas grimace as he ate. 

Maybe I could make chicken. That also happened to be something that Stephen liked, so maybe there was a chance that he would eat without looking at his phone at the same time. One could always hope. 

That month went by in a flash. It wasn’t because I had been exceptionally busy or anything, but time went by fast anyway in a flurry of laundry, cooking, picking up Lucas from school, and of course the art lessons. 

After a few weeks, I had gotten a lovely surprise: I had indeed won the competition, and my portrait would be displayed at art exhibition in a few weeks. I was both thrilled and surprised, and especially Gus was happy for me. Most likely because it meant that he had won our little bet. He had been right, and I would be buying drinks for the whole class. I didn’t mind that at all. I still hadn’t fully recovered from the surprise of actually winning the competition. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that my painting would be displayed at an art exhibition. I was vain enough to plan a trip and go and see it with my own eyes. 

And my art lessons continued. I still thoroughly enjoyed those blessed few hours where I just sat down and painted. And I was starting to see Gus and Alexandra as more than just aquatints. I was beginning to see them as my new friends instead. And Bliss too. She was very easygoing. Easy to talk to. And excellent at baking pies. Lucas and I had more or less consumed the blueberry pie she had given us, and at the next art lesson, I had praised her baking skills to the heavens. She had laughed and brushed off the compliment, claimed that she wasn’t that good, but at the same time, I could see that my compliments had made her happy. 

Sometimes I stayed a few extra minutes to chat with her after the lesson had ended. And my brief exchange with Bliss was slowly becoming a part of my new routine as well. I liked talking to her. Despite how trivial the things we talked about were. 

Of course Delia had been right all along. Of course I needed to talk to someone that wasn’t her or Stephen or Lucas. Of course I needed to meet new people too. New friends. 

And maybe, just maybe, my little group of new friends would be enough to quell that sense of growing restlessness I had been feeling lately. Maybe my new friends could make me forget about the boredom entirely. I hoped so. I had been quite worried about myself lately. Being this restless wasn’t a second nature for me. Normally, I was quite calm. I’ve always had the ability to settle for what I had and be grateful for that, and I didn’t understand why that ability was failing me now. 

It had to be that midlife crisis lurking. One late afternoon, I had actually ended up googling it. And I had stumbled upon the article “13 signs you’re having a midlife crisis, and what to do with it”. 

According to the article, I was “asking myself deep, probing questions”. I wasn’t so sure I agreed with that. I hadn’t asked myself any deep questions lately. Had I?

Furthermore, (or at least according to the article) I was making rash decisions. I didn’t agree with that either. I hadn’t been making any rash decisions lately. 

Number three on the list was “you feel like you’re slowly losing your mind”. I only partially agreed to that. Yes, occasionally I felt frustrated, but not like I was losing my mind. That would be to exaggerate. 

According to point number four, I couldn’t sleep at night. Well, sometimes I had trouble falling asleep. But then again, sometimes I had trouble with getting up in the morning. That description didn’t match me completely. 

Number five: “your vision of the future is dismal”. Well, not entirely.

But point number six definitely matched me. “You constantly feel bored”. That description was pretty spot on. I was bored. Very bored. The article helpfully suggested breaking “your normal routine and doing something outside the home”, and I felt very proud of myself for leaving for my art class every Tuesday. 

Point number seven: “you have an overwhelming sense of loss”. No, not really.

Point number eight: “you become overly worried about your appearance”. Partially true. Yes, I had noticed a couple of new wrinkles here and there, and while I was definitely not delighted about them, I knew that there wasn’t much I could do about them. Apart from continuing to use that expensive wrinkle cream I had in the bathroom cabinet. 

Point number nine: “you stop caring about your appearance all together”. Not true either. I cared about how I looked. Looking presentable and put together was important to me. I would never leave the house without combing my hair for instance. 

Point number ten: “you rarely (if ever) have any interest in sex”. Well... That had almost thrown me off completely and I had almost switched off the laptop. Because that was true. I hadn’t been very interested in physical intimacy with my husband lately. I had tried to excuse it with the fact that he was away a lot, but deep down I knew that it was more than just that. I had hastily moved on to the next point on the list. 

Point number eleven: “you consider yourself to be an old person”. Yes. Definitely. 

Point number twelve: “you think your best years are behind you”. Yes and no. While I sometimes looked back and missed my thirties and twenties, I was also excited at the prospect of seeing my son grow up. So, not completely spot on. 

And finally, point thirteen: “you think every bad day means you’re having a midlife crisis”. Yes. Absolutely. I couldn’t exactly run from that. But the article reminded me that something good could come from having a midlife crisis. This was the chance to evaluate what was working and wasn’t working in my life. It was the right time to meet new people, go new places, explore new hobbies and try things that brought me joy.

I could do that. And besides, not all the points fitted me. Maybe I was only having a mild midlife crisis. If there even was such a thing. 

**********************

The first point in my “do things that brings me joy”-plan was going out and celebrating my wedding anniversary with my husband. 

So, that Saturday I woke up one hour earlier than what I normally would. I made breakfast for Lucas and gave him a ride to Trevor’s. Then I drove back home and killed a few hours in my brand-new studio. I had a bit of lunch, and then I went into the bathroom. Now my work was starting. I stared at all the products I had lined up on the shelf. I could have paid a beautician to pamper me, but why waste the money when I had every opportunity to do it myself? All the products I had for the occasion, was definitely worthy of a beautician. 

I started out with taking a nice, long, hot, bubble bath. I allowed myself to lie in the tub and soak for longer than what I normally would. A piano concert with Mozart was playing on my iPhone, and I was on the brink of falling asleep in the tub. Then I remembered that there actually was a purpose with this. I had a plan. A plan I intended to follow. 

So I got out of the tub eventually. I quenched the water out of my hair and wrapped a towel around it to give it a chance to dry a little. Later one, I would abuse it plenty with the hairdryer. Then I found my shaving kit. It was almost a bit dusty. I hadn’t used it for a while. But tonight I would use it, and I was more than throughout as I shaved every inch of myself until I reached the desired level of smoothness. 

Then I rubbed dollops and dollops of over expensive cream into my skin. I was prone to getting dry skin, and I reminded myself to be better at using all the products I had instead of letting them dry out and get dusty. And the same thing went for my skin, for that matter. I shouldn’t let my skin get dry and dusty either. Since I had so much time on my hands, why not spend some of that time on myself? 

Next, I attacked my hair. I quenched the last bit of water out of it. Then I gave it a very throughout brushing, and then I blow dried it until it was smooth and soft. Gave it another brushing. And I didn’t stop until it was shining like the purest gold. 

I applied more makeup than I normally would. Used a darker color on my eyelids and a darker shade on my lips. When I was finished, my blue eyes didn’t look tired anymore. But big and vibrant and framed by thick, long lashes. My eyebrows had been plucked, tamed, brushed through and then carefully shaped with a pencil. 

Once all that was taken care of, I put on my nicest pair of underwear and the matching bra. Then I carefully rolled my nylon stockings on. I took my time. Any wrong movement, and I would end up tearing through the thin fabric. But fortunately enough, that didn’t happen, and I could proceed to putting my dress on. 

My new dress. I couldn’t remember the last time I had bought something new, but tonight was a special occasion, so I had gone out of my way and spoiled myself with a new dress. The dress was sky blue with little cap sleeves and a modest neckline. It was pretty without being indecent or too flashy, and the color matched my eyes nicely. 

Normally, I would have tied my hair back in either a bun or a ponytail, but this was a special occasion. I decided to just let it hang loose. It had been a while since I had last done that, and I immediately noticed that it had grown longer than what I had expected. It was almost reaching the lowest point of my shoulders. Maybe it was time to book an appointment at the hair salon. Perhaps that could be a part of the “new things” my midlife crisis bade me to do. Maybe I could get a new hairstyle to spice things up. It was definitely worth considering. 

While the days were warm and almost balmy, the nights were a bit chilly. I grabbed a blue cardigan from the closet. Maybe Stephen and I decided to take a walk after the dinner. We had often enjoyed taking walks together before he had gotten busy with the company. 

With that in mind, I hesitated as I glanced at my collection of shoes. If we were going to go for a walk afterwards, it would be silly to put on a pair of high heels, but on the other hand, I had a pair that would match this dress perfectly.

In the end, vanity won, and I wiggled my feet into a pair of high heels. My feet would ache by the end of the night, but it would be worth it. 

Now that I was dressed and done up, I just had one more important thing to take care of.

I walked downstairs and called a cab. Stephen would be driving to the restaurant in his own car, and it seemed silly to drive in different cars. 

Now I was ready. I had dropped Lucas off at Trevor’s. I was dressed up. I had booked the cab. I was more than prepared.

It didn’t take long before the cab arrived, and I flashed the driver a smile as I entered the car. I was looking forward to spending a night celebrating with my husband, and my voice was light as I told the driver where I was going. 

I reached the restaurant in good time. It would be another twenty minutes before Stephen would arrive, and I told the waitress that I didn’t mind waiting outside on a bench, but fortunately enough, the table I had booked was already available. 

“Would you like to order a snack while you wait?” the waitress offered. “Or something to drink perhaps?” 

I briefly glanced over the menu in front of me and quickly settled on marinated olives and almonds. 

“And a glass of white wine,” I added. I was allowed a glass of wine tonight. It was a special occasion, after all. 

“Coming right up,” the blonde waitress said and smiled at me. Her nametag informed that her name was Charlotte. She seemed nice. 

After a moment, she arrived with my olives and almonds and my glass of white wine. I thanked her and took a small sip of the wine. Now all I could do was wait, but I didn’t mind that. I was still soaking up the feeling of actually being out and about. It had been so long since Stephen and I last had been on a restaurant. 

I took another sip of my wine and found my phone at the bottom of my purse. I briefly considered to message Stephen and let him know that I was here, but I decided not to. He already knew that, and he was probably driving right now. I didn’t want to take his attention away from the road. He had the unfortunate habit of checking his phone while he was driving. I had tried to make him stop it multiple times, but he only got annoyed when I commented on it. He claimed that he knew what he was doing. And I didn’t want to keep arguing with him. It wasn’t worth it. As long as he didn’t check his phone while he had Lucas with him in the car. That was my limit, and Stephen knew that. 

I looked around in the restaurant. There wasn’t many people in here. Most of them were sitting outside, enjoying the toasty evening, but it was on purpose that I had booked us a table inside. Stephen didn’t really like sitting outside. He hated sharing his food with flies, he said. And he enjoyed a more private setting. When you sat outside, every passerby could listen in on your conversation, and he wasn’t interested in that. 

I understood that. Sort of. Waving flies away from my food was annoying, but I wasn’t paranoid enough to believe that the people walking past us would actually listen in on our conversations. Surely, our conversations couldn’t be that interesting? 

I chuckled slightly as I took another sip of the wine. It was a very good wine. Nice and cold. Perfect for a balmy summer night. 

And the olives and almonds were very good at well. Tonight was gonna be a good night. I could feel it. Even despite my feet that were beginning to ache slightly, I was optimistic. 

But twenty two minutes later, I was beginning to wonder. Stephen was late, and he never usually were. I tried calling him on his cellphone, but it just went straight to voicemail. 

I frowned slightly as I took a sip of my now half-full glass of wine. I would just have to assume that Stephen was on his way. Perhaps there had been a lot of traffic on the way or something like that. He would probably be here in a minute. 

But as five more minutes crept by, anxiety was starting to get the best of me. And I was starting to feel ridiculous as well. The restaurant was gradually starting to fill up, and I was paranoid enough to believe that the other restaurant guests were looking at the woman who had dressed up but was seemingly drinking alone. 

I glanced at my phone again. Now he was seven minutes late. My hyper punctual husband was seven minutes late. It was almost unheard of. 

I tried to be patient. This could be because of the traffic. That was a very valid excuse. And it was only seven minutes. I could be patient for a little longer. 

So I was. For five more minutes. 

For ten more minutes. 

I glanced at my phone. Still no missed calls or messages.

For fifteen more minutes. 

I shifted slightly in my seat and considered to take off my shoes under the table. Why not make myself comfortable while I waited? I tapped my fingers lightly against the glass of wine in front of me.   
Shifted on the chair once more. This wasn’t the most comfortable chair in the world. Maybe I could ask waitress Charlotte for a pillow. I was grateful that I had brought my cardigan. Otherwise this would have been a very cold experience.

I leaned back on the chair in an attempt to not go completely stiff while I waited. Maybe I should slip my shoes off under the table. The white tablecloth was long. No one would notice if I did. I ran a finger through my hair and dared myself to not look at my phone again. I drew the cardigan a little tighter around myself. Maybe I could ask Charlotte to close the window. It was getting very chilly in here. Or maybe I was simply sitting too closely to the door. I should have chosen a table that wasn’t near the door, I realized and mentally scolded myself for that. I tapped my fingertips against the wine glass again. I knew I was being paranoid, but it really felt as though everyone in the restaurant was looking at me and wondering why I was sitting alone. 

Why was I sitting alone? Why hadn’t Stephen showed up several minutes ago? I pursed my lips slightly in annoyance and then sighed deeply. I already had an inkling. A horrible inkling as to why Stephen wasn’t here.

I took a large sip of my glass of wine. Perhaps I should order one more of these. It certainly seems as though I deserve one.

The next time I glanced at my phone and realized that twenty minutes had passed, and that Stephen was now fifty seven minutes late, the realization was slowly beginning to dawn on me. 

He’s not coming. 

I sat the glass of wine down on the table. The thud was louder than I had expected it to be. I had probably used more force than intended. I got a bitter taste in my mouth. 

I had officially been stood up by my husband. On the night of our wedding anniversary. I wasn’t completely sure whether this was something I would be able to find amusing someday. Right now, the anger and humiliation was blocking out everything else. 

I emptied my glass of wine and ate the last of my olives and almond. Waitress Charlotte had already been there twice and asked whether I wished to order. The answer was no. No, I didn’t wish to order. I wanted to go home and pretend that this had never happened. And I hoped that Stephen had a more than valid excuse for not showing up like we had planned. 

I felt completely flat as I slowly rose from my seat. Like a balloon that had been popped. As quietly as possible, I stuffed my phone back into my purse, buttoned my cardigan, and then I walked up to the counter to pay the bill. Right now I was regretting that I had decided to wear high heels. I kept imagining that the sound of them clacking against the floor was louder than what it actually was. 

I drummed my fingers on the counter as I waited for one of the waitresses to notice me. There was a bell you could press, but I had no intention of doing that. Why draw unnecessary attention to myself? 

But nevertheless, I hoped that one of the waitresses would notice me soon. I just wanted to go home and forget this fiasco of a night. Maybe I would even watch an episode or two of Downtown Abbey. I definitely deserved that. I remembered that there was half a tub of ice cream left in the freezer. Half a tub of ice cream that Lucas had monopolized, but I could replace it before he arrived back from Trevor’s tomorrow. Right now, I felt as though I deserved the ice cream more than he did. 

An episode of Downtown Abbey and half a tub of ice cream to nurse my hurt feelings. That had to be the way to go. The way to get over this. 

God, I can’t believe that he didn’t show up. Sure, I knew that Stephen had been stressed at work lately, but still, being busy was one thing. Forgetting his wedding anniversary was something else entirely.   
That had never happened before, and that was most likely the reason why I was so shocked, because normally, I was fairly good at taking all his twists and turns in strides. 

But tonight was different. Tonight was most certainly different. I had hoped that Stephen and I would find each other tonight. Instead I had been sitting in a restaurant alone for fifty seven minutes. 

“Ella?”

I turned around and quickly identified the person calling my name. Bliss was standing a little behind me. She was probably waiting for a waitress as well. 

“I thought that was you,” she said and flashed me a broad smile. “Hi!” 

“Hello,” I said and returned her smile while I reminded myself not to sound so disinterested. It wasn’t Bliss’ fault I was having a bad night. 

“You here for some later dinner too?” she smiled. 

“Actually I was just leaving.” 

“Really?” one of her eyebrows rose. “That’s a shame. You see, I’ve just been screwed over by one of my friends. She was supposed to meet me here for dinner, but...” she shrugged and didn’t finish the sentence. 

“I’m sorry your plans got ruined,” I said. There must be something in the water tonight.

“And I really hate to eat alone,” Bliss said and brushed a hand over her denim skirt. “But I suppose you’ve already eaten?” 

“I haven’t, actually,” I said. The evening had been ruined, and the thought of eating something while I was here alone hadn’t even crossed my mind. But now I wasn’t alone anymore. 

“Really? Can I coax you into having dinner with me then?” Bliss said hopefully. “Eating alone is just not my thing.” 

“Nor mine,” I said and chuckled. “I won’t say no to joining you for dinner.” That was far better than the night in front of the television with a tub of ice cream I had planned. 

“Awesome!” Bliss said and flashed me another smile. “I was considering this evening ruined, but I might have to re-consider that now.”

“We can sit over here,” I said and led her back to my table. The table I had booked with the intensions to have a romantic night with my husband. What a turn my evening had taken. 

“Sweet,” Bliss said and grabbed a menu as she sat down. “I don’t know about you, but I’m so hungry I could die.” 

“Me, too,” I agreed. I actually was fairly hungry. Now that some of the bitterness was disappearing, I could feel how hungry I really was. 

“What will you have?” she asked and frowned slightly as she looked at the menu. “I think I’ll go with...... the sweet corn risotto.” She pushed the menu towards me. “What about you?”

I reached out to take the menu from her, and as my fingertips briefly touched hers, I picked up on how warm her hand was. Lucky her. I had struggled with bad circulation for years now. 

“I’ll have the grilled pork loin,” I said after having quickly glanced at the menu. I had already decided that when I first arrived here. And however sad it may sound, I had actually been looking forward to it. 

“Great,” Bliss said. It didn’t take long before she managed to get waitress Charlotte’s attention, and we ordered our food and two glasses of water. I had already had one glass of wine, and I knew my limit. 

“So,” Bliss said as the waitress left us again. “How come you’re here all alone?” 

I shrugged. “Perhaps it’s on purpose. Perhaps I like dining on my own.”

“Maybe,” Bliss nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, it would have been really cool if you had just decided to put on your nicest dress and head out on your own, but I’m getting a certain vibe from you.” 

“You’re getting a vibe?” I echoed. 

“Mmm,” Bliss said and leaned back in her chair. “You looked exactly as unhappy as I did when I found out that my plans had been cancelled.” 

“Ah,” I laughed. “Well, I suppose you’re right. I’ve been stood up too. I’m not wearing this dress for fun.” 

“Shame. It’s a nice dress,” Bliss said plainly. “But I’m sorry you’ve been stood up.”

I shrugged again. “I’ll get over it. I was just disappointed.” 

Waitress Charlotte came back with our water and put a temporarily stop to our conversation. 

“Thank you,” I said to her as she placed the glass of water in front of me. I feared that I had snapped at her tonight while I had been waiting for Stephen. 

“Your dinner will be here shortly,” she said graciously and smiled at me. 

I returned the smile. 

She walked off again, and Bliss raised her glass. “To being stood up.” 

“To being stood up,” I agreed and raised my own glass. They clinked together, and Bliss smiled at me. The red hairband she had attempted to tie around her explosion of curls was slightly askew, I noted.   
And the color of her tanktop was matching the color of her hairband. But the color of her nail polish didn’t match her outfit or hair accessory in anyway. Today her nails were colored bright yellow. It suited her skin color perfectly. What was it with her and the color yellow? It couldn’t be a coincidence she often chose that color. 

We both took a sip of our water and then sat our glasses down at exactly the same time. That made me smile. 

She briskly asked whether I had been at the exhibition and seeing my painting yet, and I told her that I hadn’t. Not yet anyway. 

“But you’re going to though, right?” Bliss asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, of course I am,” I was quick to assure. 

“Great. Give me a howl when you’re going. We can go together,” she suggested. 

I nodded. “That sounds good.” 

Bliss grinned a little. “And I’ve heard that you’ll be the one to buy the drinks.” 

“Indeed. You turned out to be right,” I said. 

“I’m rarely wrong,” she teased. “Which bar are we going to then?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said a bit airily. “But I’m sure I’ll think of something.” 

“Make sure it’s a place that sells cheap drinks,” Bliss teased. 

I laughed. 

After a little while, our food arrived, and I immediately dug into my food with vigor. 

Bliss tilted her head and shot me a look of curiosity. 

“I’m just really hungry,” I excused and made sure to swallow before saying anything. 

She chuckled. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“No, but I’m fairly certain you were thinking.” 

“The only thing I was thinking was how happy I was that you like your food,” Bliss said and flashed me a smile as she dug into her own food. 

I smiled but nevertheless reminded myself to eat with less enthusiasm. It wasn’t necessary for me act like I hadn’t seen food in a hundredth years. 

We were enjoying our food and chatting briskly when my cellphone suddenly rang and interrupted us. 

“Excuse me,” I said as I thrusted one hand into my purse and fished out my phone. 

“Sure,” Bliss said and leaned back in her chair. 

I could feel how my mood dropped a tad when I identified the number as Stephen’s. This was gonna be an interesting conversation. 

I swiped one finger over the screen as I took the call. “Hello?” 

“Ella,” Stephen greeted in his usual way. “Could you do me a favor and go upstairs and check a few papers for me? It’s important.” 

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said somewhat stiffly. 

“Why not?” Stephen asked. “It’s very important.” 

“I’m not at home right now,” I said truthfully. 

“Where are you then?” he asked, and his voice was laced with confusion. It wasn’t often that I went out. 

“I’m at the Rustic Root,” I answered, and I could hear the frostiness in my voice. “Like we decided.” 

Stephen went silent for a moment, and I imagined him frowning in confusion. I had seen that frown on his face a million times already. I knew it by heart. 

“Our anniversary isn’t until next Saturday,” he then said, but he didn’t sound very certain. 

“Actually, it’s tonight,” I informed him. 

He went quiet once more. Now I imagined his face as the realization dawned upon him. As he realized that he had messed up. 

“My god,” he finally said, and gone was the confusion. “Ella, I’m so sorry. I forgot.” 

“Yes,” I said simply. I didn’t have much else to say right now. Except for the fact that I sat and waited for him for fifty seven minutes. I felt very tempted to tell him that. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, and now his voice was soft and reminded me of a Stephen I hadn’t met in quite a while now. “I will make it up to you, I promise.” 

I could sense that he wanted me to say that it was alright, but I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. So instead I said: “when can we expect you home this time?” 

“I’m not completely sure,” Stephen sighed. “But when I do, we’ll have a nice meal, just the two of us.” 

“That sounds nice,” I said tightly. I wasn’t very keen on softening already. This wasn’t just a minor little thing. This was our wedding anniversary. And he had forgotten. 

“I’m very sorry about this, Ella,” he said sincerely. 

“I will see you when you get back,” I said smoothly and steered clear of his apology. 

“I- yes. See you then,” he said.

“Goodnight, Stephen.” 

“Goodnight, Ella, my dear.” 

I ended the call and slid the phone back into my purse. Despite his three apologies, I still felt sour. I didn’t doubt that the apologies had been genuine, but they didn’t really help. I was still annoyed and not quite ready to forgive and forget. I didn’t even feel very mean for wanting to letting him stew for a while. An apology didn’t really change the fact that he had forgotten our wedding anniversary. 

“Everything okay?” Bliss asked and raised an eyebrow. 

My head snapped up and I smiled a little as I met her coffee colored eyes. “A bit of a crisis on the home front,” I admitted. “But nothing too serious.” 

“Does it have anything to do with why you’re dressed up but having dinner with me instead of... someone else?” 

I laughed dryly. “Well, if you must know, my husband had forgotten our anniversary.” 

“No way.” 

“Yes way,” I said and quelled a sigh. “But it’s alright. It is what it is. I’ll forgive him for it. Eventually.”

“How many years have you guys been married?” Bliss asked and took a sip of her water. 

“Twenty one years,” I said and silently marveled at how impressive it sounded when said out loud. 

Bliss spluttered. “That long? You’ve must have been a teenager when you married him!” 

I laughed. “Not quite. But I was fresh out of college.” 

She shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve just turned twenty two, barely out of college. I’m still bumbling around without having a clue about anything, and you were all.... grown up when left college.” 

I laughed again. “I suppose it was a different time back then.” 

“Not really,” Bliss argued. 

Maybe she was right about that. I didn’t argue with it. Instead I raised my glass and smiled as I said “cheers”. 

“Cheers,” Bliss said, and her coffee colored eyes gleamed as she raised her own glass and clinked it with mine. 

******************

That wasn’t how I had envisioned spending my evening, but it actually turned out to be a rather nice evening. Unplanned, but nice. 

“Thank you for listening to my nonsense all night,” I quipped as we left the restaurant and went outside. 

“Nonsense? What nonsense?” Bliss said and scoffed. “This has been fun.” 

“It has,” I agreed and smiled. “I should probably try and get a taxi now, though. I left my car at home, and I don’t think my feet would appreciate if I walked.” 

“I can drive you,” Bliss offered. 

“Oh no, you don’t have-“ 

“I want to,” she insistently interrupted. “Seriously, you’ve given me a ride so many times now. Let me return the favor. Please.” 

“Alright,” I said without putting up much of a fight. I could sense that she wouldn’t let this go. 

“Your carriage awaits,” she joked as she gestured towards her yellow car. 

I chuckled as we walked towards it. It was a charming little car she had there. And with very soft, comfortable seats. 

“So, where can I take you?” Bliss asked briskly as she buckled her seatbelt. 

“Spear street 14th, please,” I said. 

“Got it.” 

She was driving faster than I. That was the first thing that came to mind as we drove away from the restaurant. And she was entirely unbothered by the fact that her phone kept ringing every so often during the drive. 

I raised an eyebrow. Whoever it was calling her, sure was stubborn. 

“Just ignore it,” Bliss encouraged and scoffed. “She can wait. Serves her well for blowing me off like that.” 

“I’m sorry you had your plans ruined,” I said. 

“Nah, it’s alright,” she said and chuckled lightly. “I had a nice time toasting to being blown off with you.” 

I smiled almost against my will. “Misery meets company?” 

“Yeah. Something like that.” 

I leaned back in the soft seat. I was getting a bit drowsy. Most likely from the wine I had consumed earlier. And I had a very strong urge to get my shoes off as fast as possible. I would definitely treat myself to another warm bath when I got home. I had earned that. 

“You know, I’ve never seen you with your hair down before,” Bliss suddenly commented. 

“It’s not very practical when you paint,” I said and ran a finger through my hair. It was still completely smooth despite how warm it had been inside the restaurant. 

“No, I don’t suppose it is,” she agreed. “But it suits you.” 

“Oh. Thank you,” I said, surprised but nevertheless happy about the unexpected compliment. 

“At least you looked bomb tonight,” Bliss said. “Nobody can take that from you.” 

I laughed heartedly. “Always look at the bright side of life.” 

“Exactly.” 

Silence fell over us once more, and I was grateful when I saw Spear Street. Not because I didn’t like being in the car with Bliss, but the wine was making me sleepier than what I had anticipated. Perhaps I would have to skip the shower and go straight to bed instead. Drowning in the bathtub wasn’t on my schedule tonight. 

I turned my head and looked at Bliss. Her eyes were fixated on the road. Compared to Stephen, she was a very sensible driver. 

Stephen. He and I should probably try and clean the air tomorrow. Maybe I would be ready to forgive him completely tomorrow. I hoped so. Being upset with him was so draining, and it affected my mood gruesomely. I didn’t want Lucas to pick up on it. I didn’t want my son to worry about anything. Stephen and I were fine. Or, we would be. Soon. 

“There we are. Spear Street 14th,” Bliss suddenly announced. 

I looked up and realized that we were indeed parked in front of my home already. 

“Thank you for the ride,” I said as I unbuckled the seatbelt and opened the door. “I really appreciate that.”

“It was no problem,” Bliss said and smiled. “See you on Tuesday.”

“Yes. See you.” 

“Have a nice night,” she said. 

“You too,” I said as I carefully closed the car door. 

She flashed me another smile. Looked at me. 

I returned her gaze, but I was a little unsure about what to say, so I ended up repeating: “thank you.” 

She didn’t say anything about that. Instead she said: “goodnight, Ella.” 

“Goodnight, Bliss.” 

After another moment, she started the car and drove away, and I turned around and walked the short distance to my house. I wasn’t completely sure whether it was the wine or the high heels or the combined power of the two, but I ended up almost slipping on the tiles.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The morning after the disastrous night where I had ended up celebrating my wedding anniversary without Stephen, I was roused from my sleep by a brisk knocking on the door. 

I cursed softly under my breath as I reluctantly climbed out of bed, put on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt and then tied my messy bed hair back in a ponytail. I couldn’t answer the door looking like I had just gotten out of bed. Even if I had. 

There was another knock, and I cursed quietly once more. That sound was most definitely too loud for this hour. And there was a slight chance that I was little hungover as well. 

I dragged my unwilling body down the stairs and stole a quick look at myself in the hallway mirror. Despite being a little hungover, I looked fairly good. There were no smudges of makeup underneath my eyes, and I congratulated myself with being smart enough to having cleansed my face last night before going to bed. 

Before whoever it was got the chance to knock again and make my head pound further, I opened the door.

There was a young man standing on the porch. He was wearing a cap with a company logo printed on it, and he was carrying a large bouquet of roses. There had to be at least forty. 

“Delivery for Ella Benson?” he said and flashed me a smile. I didn’t know how he managed to be this upbeat this early. 

“That’s me,” I said and confirmed his suspicion. 

“Great. If you just sign here...” 

I quickly signed the sheet of paper he was holding out to me with one hand. As soon as I had scribbled down my signature, he handed me the enormous bouquet of red roses and wished me a good day. 

“You too,” I said and did my best to return his smile even though I wasn’t entirely awake. 

I waited until he had entered his little van and had switched the engine on. Then I turned around and went back inside the house, closing the door behind me and carefully locking it. 

I placed the enormous bouquet on the kitchen table as I ventured into the scullery to find a vase that was big enough to contain all of the roses. That took a while, and when I returned the kitchen, the roses had left a little wet patch on the kitchen table. I would have to wipe that away before making breakfast. 

I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to get the last remains of sleep out of my eyes, and I fumbled more than I normally would as I found a little white envelope between the roses. I blinked a few times as I ripped the envelope open and tried to force my sleepy eyes to focus on the written card. After a few attempts, I succeed: 

“Dearest Ella,

For twenty one years, it’s been you and me, and these fifty roses symbolizes the years that lies ahead for us.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am for forgetting our anniversary. These roses only serves a temporary apology. I promise I will make it up to you when I get home from Boston. 

All my love,

Stephen.”

I bowed my head and smelled the roses. The scent immediately assaulted my nostrils. They smelled fantastic. So sweet. And that was a very sweet gesture from Stephen. So why was it that I felt oddly empty? Was I still angry with him? Or was it the hangover that numbed everything? Or was it simply my self-proclaimed “midlife crisis” that made me this unenthusiastic? 

I didn’t try and find the answer. Instead I turned my back on the enormous bouquet of flowers. I had every intention of walking upstairs and into the bathroom to take a much needed shower, but before I got the chance to do so, my phone vibrated on the kitchen table. 

I turned around once more and snatched the phone from the kitchen table. Much to my surprise, it was a text message from Stephen. He asked if I had received the flowers. I told him that I had, and after some consideration, I added that they were beautiful. 

His answer was honey sweet. ‘only the best for you, my dear’. 

I so wished that that had made me feel all warm inside, but a nasty little voice in the back of my head whispered that this was just his guilty conscience talking. 

I tried to ignore that little voice as I texted him back and thanked him for the bouquet. He brushed my “thank you’s” aside and told me that he was “looking forward to talking to me in his lunch break.” 

I made a mental note to myself about bringing my phone with me into the studio where I was planning on spending the early afternoon. Then I walked upstairs to take my shower. 

I adjusted the temperature so the water was colder than what I normally would opt for. It bordered on being sadistic behavior, but on this particular morning I really needed it. I needed a bit of sadistic behavior to wake up. As I stood under the cold stream, I regretted the glass of wine I’ve had last night. It had been a long time since I last had had any alcohol, and I was getting worse and worse at drinking. I couldn’t handle much alcohol anymore, and I made a mental note to myself about not drinking when I was taking my fellow art students out for that drink. I would happily buy them a round of drinks, but I would make sure that I held back. if one glass of wine was enough to make me tipsy, I dreaded thinking about what would happen if I had two glasses of wine. Or three for that matter. 

I had finally found out which bar we were going to. “The Bearded Frog”. I had been there a few times with Delia, so I knew it was a nice place with great food and decent drinks. I was actually looking forward to a night out. I didn’t usually go out for drinks. That was only something I did with Delia when she wasn’t busy at work. This time would be different. This time, I was going out with a whole group of people. People, I was starting to consider my friends. People that shared my interest in sketching and painting. I wasn’t nervous about whether we could find something to talk about that night. I already knew that wasn’t gonna be a problem. 

I finally took mercy upon myself and adjusted the water temperature once more. The water was a bit warmer now. Definitely more humane. And I was starting to “wake up” as well. The cold soak had helped. 

I bent and reached for the bottle of shampoo. That was enough shower thoughts for one morning. I needed to get a move on so I could get started on sketching. I could squeeze in a few hours of sketching before Lucas were due to return home from Trevor. I supposed I ought to have some breakfast too, but I wasn’t hungry. I never was when I had been drinking the night before. No matter how little I had been drinking. 

I would settle for a quick cup of tea, and then I would seal myself off in my studio for a few hours. I smiled as I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. I couldn’t think of a better way to start my morning. A quiet morning was exactly what I needed today.

I spend a few lovely hours hidden away in my “studio”. When I sat there with my sketchbook in my lap and the pencil ready, I forgot that this wasn’t a proper studio. I forgot that the room was too small and cramped to be a real studio. I forgot that my easel could barely fit in here, and I forgot that the one window in here was too small and didn’t give me enough sunlight. The only thing I focused on was the lovely shade of purple on the wall. How professional the easel looked in here. How much I was looking forward to spending hours standing in front of it and paint. I forgot that I still had a very slight headache and that I should probably eat something. Everything just floated away. As it always did when I was painting. I was pleased to discover that I didn’t just feel euphoric whenever I attended one of my art lessons. I also felt euphoric in here. In my own little studio. 

My thoughts started to drift as I sketched. I thought about last night. It definitely hadn’t been the night out I had planned, but actually, I had a nice time last night. It was fortunate that Bliss had showed up when she had. Well, of course it wasn’t good that she had been stood up, but her presence had made the whole difference. Thanks to her, I hadn’t left the restaurant in a foul mood. I had actually managed to enjoy myself. I had laughed a lot as Bliss and I had toasted to “being stood up”. And it had been nice of her to give me a ride home. I would have to thank her for that at the next art class. I was no eagle at baking, so bringing her a pie was out of the question, but at least I could say thank you. 

I stopped sketching abruptly and just stared at the motive on the page. Exactly why was I drawing Bliss? This wasn’t another lesson. I could sketch other things. Strange. Maybe it was because I had been thinking about our night out last night. And because I had been drawing her for a while now. She was a motive I was good at drawing. My pencil recognized every part of her, and my subconscience had just gone with the easiest solution and had commanded me to keep drawing. 

I gently blew on the paper. I wasn’t interested in having the motive smudged. God forbid I should ruin Bliss’ hair. Her hair was difficult enough to draw as it were, and I wasn’t interested in starting over because of a bit of smudging. 

Maybe I was sketching the same model, but it was a little different anyway. Mainly because I was actually portraying her with clothes on today. I carefully sketched the denim skirt and tanktop she had worn last night. Sketching her nude body didn’t make me embarrassed like it had at the first lesson but portraying her with clothes on certainly made for a nice change. I could almost hear her laughter in my head as I sketched her. She had laughed a lot last night. We both had. I briefly wondered who she had been supposed to meet last night. Who had stood her up, and more importantly, why she hadn’t been more annoyed about it? I knew I certainly had been annoyed last night. And I still were. The large bouquet of roses on the dining table downstairs looked pretty and all, but the fact that Stephen had forgotten our wedding anniversary wasn’t just something that could be fixed with a nice bouquet and a sweet card. It required a talk. A throughout one. I hoped he knew that. And I hoped he was planning on participating in it instead of grunting his way through it like he had a habit of doing whenever the conversation was getting just a little bit serious. 

He would make it up to me when he got back from Boston. I wondered how he was planning on doing that. And exactly when was he coming back from Boston? We hadn’t talked about that either. I hoped it wouldn’t be in three weeks from now. Given the circumstances, that was simply too long to wait. He had to come home sooner so we could fix this. And move on. 

I blew on the paper again. Perhaps he and I could go out when he got back. Give the restaurant another try. Or maybe we could do something else. Visit the cinema or drive to one of the bigger cities and spend the day there. Lucas could stay with Trevor. He would love that. 

I absentmindedly hummed to myself as started sketching the table Bliss and I had been sitting at in the restaurant last night. Next time, I would have to think of another motive. Something that wasn’t Bliss. 

Maybe I could ask Stephen to model for me. That was an idea. I hadn’t gotten the chance to sketch him yet. At least not recently. I had done it a few times when we first started dating, but then he had distracted me with kisses and sweet words, and we had ended up doing something entirely else. Something that had very little to do with sketching. I shook my head slightly at the memory. Those had been the days. The days before he had taken over the company. He had been less worried back then. Less stressed. I hoped that I could bring some of the old Stephen back when he arrived home from Boston. Our wedding anniversary was the perfect occasion to re-live the past.

“Mum?”

I looked up and put the sketchbook down. Lucas was home. 

I quickly left the studio and walked downstairs to greet my son. I found him in the kitchen where he was standing with his head in the fridge. 

“Hi, honey,” I said and flashed him a smile. “Did you have a good time with Trevor?” 

“Mhmm,” he nodded as he emerged from the fridge with a carton of orange juice and a box of those chocolate biscuits he so favored. The ones I always ended up buying for him no matter how hard I   
tried not to. 

“That’s good. Did you stay up all night?” I asked and chuckled. He looked a bit tired. 

“No. Only till about 4,” Lucas said nonchalantly. 

I raised an eyebrow. 

He erupted in laughter and shook his head. “I’m kidding, mum. Of course we didn’t stay up until 4.” 

“Good,” I said and then quipped: “it’s not nice to lie to your mother, Lucas.” 

He snickered as he poured himself a glass of orange juice and then snatched not one but three chocolate biscuits from the box. I raised an eyebrow again, ready and prepared to remind him how unhealthy that was. But he paid little attention to the upcoming lecture as he nonchalantly said: “did you and dad have a good time last night?” 

I took a moment to consider it. It was very tempting to go with easy and simply say “yes”. But lying to him didn’t seem right. Even if it was the easiest solution. 

“We decided to postpone it until the next time your dad comes home,” I said lightly. 

Lucas frowned. “Why?” 

“Because it fitted the schedule better,” I said briskly. 

“His schedule?”

“No,” I said firmly. “It was a joined decision, sweetie. And it was the best decision. We’ll have so much more time the next time he comes home.” 

“Okay,” Lucas said, but he didn’t look entirely convinced. 

I didn’t feel entirely convinced either, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead I asked him what he wanted to eat for lunch, and when he cheekily said chocolate biscuits, I threated him with Brussel sprouts. He wasn’t very keen on that idea and muttered something about being old enough to make his own lunch. I agreed with him, but told him that I was going to have lunch too, so why not make his lunch as well?

He didn’t protest very much when I pointed that out, and I had reason to believe that his desire to make lunch wasn’t a very genuine one. 

I chuckled amusedly as I opened the fridge and started searching for something that was healthier than chocolate cookies but not as “boring” as Brussel sprouts.

Halfway through our lunch, Stephen called. No, not called. He facetimed. That was a rarity. He usually just called. I managed to steer the conversation towards something that wasn’t about the failed attempt at celebrating our anniversary, and Stephen quickly picked up on what I was hinting. That Lucas didn’t know.

All three of us chatted about normal things until Lucas had finished his lunch and went upstairs. Then I switched the video and microphone off and brought the phone up to my ear. Stephen once again apologized profusely. He even spoke about the possibility for taking a vacation just the two of us. I said that yes, perhaps that was an idea, but at the same time, I took the suggestion with a solid grain of salt. It wasn’t the first time we had discussed and made holiday plans that never happened because of how busy he was at work. I wasn’t interested in being disappointed. 

“How about Spain or Italy?” he suggested. “We’ve talked about that before.” 

“Yes, we have,” I agreed. 

“I’ve heard Madrid is beautiful in the winter,” Stephen continued. “Maybe that’s an idea?” 

“Maybe,” I said indulgently, but at the same time I felt that little familiar stab of disappointment. In the winter. He didn’t have time to go on holiday until in the winter. And I had an inkling that this meant exactly what I thought it meant. he wouldn’t be home much for the rest of the summer and fall. The thought of that made my relatively good mood plummet some. 

“Ella? Are you still there?” 

“Yes. Of course I am,” I was quick to assure. “When will you be coming home?” 

“The next weekend,” Stephen said. “Why don’t you pick out the nicest restaurant and book us a table there?” 

I felt tempted to ask him whether or not he was going to show up this time, but I decided not to. I also swallowed down my disappointment at the prospect of having to wait another two weeks before seeing him. I still felt as though two weeks was far too long. From what I could gather, we would only have the Friday evening together, because that Saturday, we were going to Allison’s birthday party. 

There wouldn’t be much time to celebrating our anniversary, but I kept my mouth entirely shut about that. There was no reason to antagonize him like that. Instead I confirmed that yes, I would be researching restaurants while he was away. 

“And perhaps we could facetime on Tuesday afternoon?” he suggested. 

“I can’t,” I said. “I have my art lesson on Tuesday.” 

“Art lesson?” Stephen echoed in the other end. “I didn’t know you had started taking art lessons, Ella.” 

“Yes you do,” I said and quelled a sigh. “I told you that a few weeks ago. Don’t you remember?” 

“Hmm? Oh yes. So you did. That’s right,” Stephen said, but he didn’t sound like he could remember having that conversation with me. 

We agreed to find a different day to Facetime. 

*******************

But before Stephen could come home and we hopefully could celebrate our anniversary properly, I had one more thing on my schedule. 

The night out with the rest of my art class. That was something I had been looking forward to.

Once again, Lucas was spending the night at Trevor’s. Before he had left, he had teased me a little bit. Had mock warned me about not getting drunk. I had scoffed and told him that I wasn’t planning on drinking tonight. At least not much. I knew my limit, and I wasn’t interested in making a complete fool of myself in front of my new friends. 

As opposed to the last time I had been out, I didn’t bother with squeezing my body into a too tight dress and a pair of nylon stockings that would surely rip. Instead I went upstairs and found my nicest pair of black jeans in the closet. The jeans were snug as well, but not as ridiculously tight as the dress had been. And I felt that I didn’t look half-bad in the jeans. Then I shrugged on a black, sleeveless t-shirt and a red blazer over it. If I avoided taking the blazer off, this was definitely a nice look. But only if I kept the blazer on. There was no reason to flaunt the parts of me I was insecure about. 

I added a little bit of makeup. Nothing too much. Then I wriggled my feet into a pair of black, high heeled boots I rarely wore. And that was actually a shame. Those were nice boots. They matched the outfit nicely. I would definitely start wearing them more from now on. 

I stood in front of the mirror and debated what to do with my hair. The easiest solution would be to tie it back in a ponytail like I always did. Ponytail or bun. Those were my two go-to-looks. But recently I had been told that having my hair down suited me. And maybe that was true. I loosened the grip on my hair. Golden tendrils spilled down my shoulders and framed my face nicely. No, I wouldn’t put my hair up tonight. Instead I gave it a throughout brushing and kept it away from my face with a little hairpin. 

I looked nice. Put together. The red color of the blazer somehow matched my hair color. I was very satisfied with the way I looked. 

I ventured downstairs once more and carefully stuffed my phone into my purse. I left the car keys. I wouldn’t be driving tonight. Instead I would do what I had done the last time and call a cab. I wasn’t planning on excessive drinking tonight, but I didn’t want to take any chances in case I chose to have a drink. Getting a ticket for being intoxicated while driving wasn’t a part of my plan tonight. 

I smiled a little as I waited for the cab to come and pick me up. I was looking forward to this night out with the little group of people I now called my friends. Delia had been delighted when I had told her about it the last time we spoke. She claimed that going out was “good for me”. And then she had reminded me that I “wasn’t fifty”. I had protested and said that I had never claimed to be fifty. She had scoffed and said that I was sometimes living like a fifty year old, but when I asked her to define what that meant, she oddly enough didn’t have any answers. At least not any one I could use. 

She would be very proud if she saw that I was in fact wearing jeans and high heels and had left my hair hanging loose. I very briefly considered to snap a picture of myself and send it to her as evidence, but then I shook my head and chuckled slightly. That would simply be a little too silly. 

While I was looking forward to this night out, I was definitely not looking forward to Allison’s birthday party next Saturday. And to think that we were supposed to spend the night there. In her farmhouse in Ludlow. I already dreaded it. I just knew that the party was gonna be a farce. The kind of party where everyone smiled but didn’t really mean it. The kind of party where Allison would probe and ask Lucas questions about “his future” while claiming that she simply was a grandmother who was interested in her grandchild’s life. 

There was a fair chance I would have to drink a glass of wine that night. Simply to endure all of it. 

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that once this was over, we wouldn’t see Allison again until Christmas. Which was in a long time. I could definitely live with that.

I heard a honk outside, and when I looked up, I realized that the taxi was here. It was time to go. I ensured that my wallet and cellphone was still safely tugged away in my purse, and then I left the house and locked the door behind me. 

Maybe I had a habit of being fashionably early for my art lessons, but that wasn’t the case here. Gus, Alexandra, Robert, Wendy and Jamie were already there when I arrived at the Bearded Frog. 

“Hey, Brittie,” Gus teasingly greeted when he spotted me. “Brittie” was the clever nickname he had come up with when he realized that I was British, and I didn’t mind the nickname one bit. It made me feel like I belonged. Like I was part of something. 

“August,” I teased in greeting, and he instantly wrinkled his nose when I used his full name. 

“We’re still a few people short,” Alexandra said as she gave me a quick hug. “We’re waiting for Rick and Yvonne.” 

“And Bliss,” Gus added and smiled. 

“Right,” Alexandra nodded. 

“Well, then I suppose it would be rather rude to order drinks before they arrive,” I said as I sat down on one of the tall barstool. 

“Are you kidding me?” Gus said and grimaced. “I’ve been thirsty all night!” 

“So, why didn’t you order a drink then?” I teased. 

He grinned broadly. “Because you’re buying tonight, Brittie. Not me.” 

“You made that sound like we’re punishing her for winning the competition,” Alexandra pointed out. 

Gus’ grin widened and his green eyes sparkled. “And aren’t we?” 

“No!” Alexandra protested. “Absolutely not!” 

Both Gus and I laughed at that. 

“So, Ella, have you been to see your painting at the exhibition yet?” Wendy asked and leaned forward slightly. 

“No, not yet,” I admitted. “I haven’t had the time.” 

Jamie nodded understandingly. “Sometimes real life gets in the world. Those lessons are starting to feel like a bubble.” 

“Yes, and a very good bubble,” I wholeheartedly agreed. 

So did the rest of the group. 

Gus once again tried to convince us to “start the party early”, but all of us firmly rejected that. It would be very rude to start before the rest of the class had arrived. Gus rolled his eyes at that and muttered something about the importance of punctuality. I laughed as I informed him that it wasn’t them who weren’t punctual. It was us who were early. And I laughed again when he couldn’t prove me wrong. 

So instead of drinking we sat and chatted pleasantly. This was the first real chance I’d had to find out more about my fellow art enthusiasts. Alexandra was a first grade teacher. Jamie was working in a bookstore. Wendy had a little cleaning company. Robert was working as a web designer, and I had many questions about that, because I was definitely not a technical genius. 

And Gus was currently only weeks away from his last test. When he had completed that test, he could call himself a certified pilot. A high-flying career, as he quipped. 

I was impressed at that. A pilot. I didn’t like flying very much. I couldn’t imagine doing it for a living, but I was impressed that he had the courage to do it. 

We were still exchanging life stories and I felt a little embarrassed at admitting that I wasn’t really doing anything with my life except for raising my teenage son, when the door opened, and Rick and   
Yvonne came inside the bar. Smiles and greetings were exchanged, and the newcomers were instructed to sit down and make themselves comfortable. 

Alexandra suggested that we ordered now, but Gus, who had claimed that he yearned for a drink earlier, suddenly insisted that we couldn’t order before Bliss showed up. 

I quelled my amusement. It was fairly obvious that Gus fancied Bliss, and to me, it seemed like a good match. Gus was a nice young man, and Bliss was very sweet too. I reckoned they would make a very good couple. 

After ten minutes or so, and several uneasy movements from Gus, the door to the bar opened again, and this time Bliss stepped inside. Gus instantly smiled and waved his hand in the air to let her know where we were sitting. 

She was wearing a yellow dress. A sundress. So brightly yellow it almost hurt my eyes to look at, but the color looked excellent on her. It matched her mocha colored skin to perfection. And she was wearing flowers in her curly hair. Red flowers. Another odd combination of colors from her, but somehow, she made it work. Somehow it looked nice on her. I doubted it would look good on anyone else. 

“Hey,” she smiled as she reached us. 

“Hey,” Gus said and returned her smile. “Come and sit down. We didn’t want to order before you got here.” 

“Oh,” Bliss said a bit surprised. “That was nice of you.” She sat down, and soon the names of different drinks were flying through the air as we decided on what to drink. 

“Moscow Mule,” said Alexandra before as much as glancing on the selection of drinks. 

“I’ll have.... Sidecar,” Robert said a bit yearningly. Clearly, Gus wasn’t the only one who had been dreaming of a drink.

Wendy opted for a Mojito. Rick decided on a Negroni, Yvonne wanted a Bloody Mary and Gus after some consideration, Gus finally landed on a Whiskey Sour.

“Bliss?” he asked and flashed her another smile. “What’ll you have?” 

“Hmm...” she quickly flipped through the menu in front of her. “I think I’ll go with a.... Mimosa. Yeah. A Mimosa.” 

“Okay.” Gus turned to me. “Brittie?”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. “Mint Julep.” 

“Great,” Gus said. “Then I suppose we’re ready to order?” 

“No, wait a sec,” Bliss said. “The Mint Julep actually sounds delicious. I think I’ll have that instead.” 

After the slight change, we ordered our drinks and then continued our pleasant chat as we waited for our drinks to arrive.

I was enjoying myself. This only strengthened my previous belief: this was a group of very sweet people. I felt very grateful for having been fortunate enough to get to know them. And I felt very grateful   
for Delia who had bullied me into signing myself up for the art class. I should spend less time on complaining and more time on listening to what my best friend was saying. She obviously knew me better than I knew myself. Or so it seemed. She had definitely hit the spot with suggesting the art class. 

After a moment, our drinks arrived, and Alexandra insisted that we toasted. 

“To Ella,” she grinned. “And to her portrait.”   
“Oh no,” I protested and shook my head. “I am not gonna drink to that.” 

“To Ella’s portrait,” Rick said and grinned at me. 

“Ella’s portrait,” Yvonne agreed. 

Soon everybody was toasting to my portrait, and their voices completely drowned my protests, so in the end I just shook my head and toasted with them. But without saying anything. I refused to toast to my own success. That wasn’t right. 

Soon we were chatting briskly. It didn’t take long before I found out that Rick had family in England, and soon he and I were talking about London. He asked where I was born, and I told him that I was from Knightsbridge. He asked me how I had ended up in Vermont, and I told him that I had met my husband fairly early when I was attending college in New York. I told him that Stephen and I had dated all through college and then married when I had turned twenty one. Like Bliss, Rick was surprised to learn that I had married at such a young age. 

I shrugged and said that I had been sure of Stephen, and then I cringed. Somehow, I had managed to make it sound as though I wasn’t sure anymore, and that hadn’t been the intention. I took another sip of my drink and noted that it was emptying fast. Damn it. I had been drinking it too fast. Most likely because Rick’s questions had made me a little nervous. But still, that wasn’t an excuse. If I kept this up,   
I would end up getting drunk, and that wasn’t the intention. 

But it didn’t take long before Robert offered to buy the next round of drinks, and obviously, no one declined that offer. Neither did I. I didn’t want to be the “boring one”, and besides, I wouldn’t be driving on my own. I would take a taxi. One more drink couldn’t harm. 

One more drink rapidly became three. We were having such a good time, and I was starting to feel pleasantly warm and chatty. Relaxed, even. It was nice feeling that way. It had been a while since I last had been this relaxed. 

Yvonne, Rick, Robert, Alexandra, Jamie and Wendy had gotten the idea that they wanted to dance. Rick had even tried to coax me out on the dancefloor, but I had laughed and firmly declined that offer. I didn’t dance, and that was not something that was up for discussion. I was very happy with just sitting and watching my new friends dancing and having a good time while I nursed my drink. 

But I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t dancing. Neither was Bliss and Gus. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Gus’ attention had been on Bliss all night. She had barely gotten the chance to talk with anyone else, and the way he looked at her was very telltale. I was willing to bet my paintbrushes that he would kiss her before the night was over.

I chuckled into my drink. It was very sweet, seeing how smitten he was with her, but at the same time, I was also slightly annoyed that I hadn’t really gotten the chance to talk to Bliss tonight. We’d had such fun the last time I saw her, and I had sort of hoped that we could have had as much fun tonight, but given how Gus was hawking her attention, there wasn’t much chance. 

I emptied my drink. My third drink. I reminded myself to stop drinking. I was definitely more than just a little tipsy right now. I didn’t want to be completely drunk. It was a very good thing that I had been smart enough to take a cab and not drive here. 

“Ella!” Rick said as he half-stumbled over to me. “Come and dance with us!”

“No thank you, Rick,” I laughed. “I’m wearing high heels. Dancing could be dangerous for me right now. And for you.” 

He guffawed at that. “I could help you? Make sure you wouldn’t fall?”

“That’s very gallant of you,” I chuckled. “But the answer’s still no.” 

Wendy laughed. “She’s a tough one, Rick.” 

I laughed heartedly at that. And I fully agreed with Wendy. I was indeed a “tough one” as she put it. 

Robert emerged from the dancefloor and declared that we should order more drinks.

“None for me,” I said quickly. If I had another drink, I would end up falling asleep in the cab on the way home, and I was certain that would be embarrassing. 

“One more drink won’t hurt-“ 

“No, Rick,” I firmly interrupted. “My head’s already floaty enough as it is.”

Rick laughed heartedly at that.

But my head was actually very floaty, so while the others enjoyed another round of drinks, I ended up excusing myself and stepping outside for a moment. Perhaps I wasn’t just more than tipsy after all.   
Perhaps I was just good old fashioned drunk. 

Once outside I leaned back against the nearest wall. I felt completely floaty and my brain was a bit muddled. I opened the button in my blazer in the hope to get some air. I ran a hand through my hair. 

Right now I wished that I had brought a hair tie so I could tie it back. I could feel the sweat gathering at the back of my neck. It was very warm inside the bar. Too warm. I rubbed a hand over my forehead. 

I should have bought a glass of water to flush down the alcohol. That would have been the sensible thing to do. I scoffed a little. I had sworn that I wasn’t gonna get drunk tonight, and yet here I was, well on the way to being just that. I was glad I had rejected Rick’s offer about dancing. That could have led to disaster. I could have ended up hurting both of us. I chuckled slightly. It had been quite a while since I had last danced. When was the last time Stephen and I had danced? I couldn’t for the life of me remember that. 

I shifted slightly against the wall. I was almost completely sagging against it, and I reminded myself to straighten my posture. Or maybe I should just move away from the wall completely. There was a fair chance the back of my blazer was getting dirty. 

Behind me, the door to the bar opened, and for a moment I “feared” that it was Rick who had come out to try and convince me to dance with him. But it wasn’t. It was Bliss in her yellow dress. Bliss with the red flowers in her hair. She smiled broadly when she saw me. “Hi.” 

“Hello,” I greeted and straightened my posture, so I wasn’t sagging against the wall anymore. 

“It’s warm in there, huh?” she said, and now it was her turn to lean back against the wall. 

“Yes. It sure is.” 

She sighed contended. “I’m really glad you won that competition. This was a good idea.” 

“Yes,” I said and smiled widely. This was a good idea. 

“You’ve been out here for a while,” Bliss observed and grinned. “You weren’t planning on bailing on us, were you?”

“No, of course not,” I said and chuckled slightly. “If you must know, I’m hiding from Rick. He was trying to coax me into a dance earlier.” 

“Oh,” Bliss snickered. “Gotcha. I would have run off too.” 

“Mmm,” I said pleasantly and exhaled deeply. It was another balmy night, and one could almost wonder why we weren’t outside instead of inside the warm, smoke-filled bar.

I ran a finger through my hair as I eyed Bliss. She looked very comfortable as she stood leaned against the wall. And she definitely didn’t look like she was about to head back inside anytime soon. 

She met my gaze, and her coffee colored eyes gleamed slightly as she smiled. “This is nice.” 

“It is,” I nodded. It was nice to get a little break from the loud music and the noise inside the bar. 

“Maybe we should just stay out here while the others are partying the night away,” Bliss joked. 

“Maybe,” I agreed but then I remembered Gus and his obvious interest in Bliss. “But shouldn’t you head back inside though?”

“Why?” Bliss asked and frowned slightly as she looked at me. “You wanna be alone?” 

“No, of course not,” I quickly assured. “I just thought that you were busy talking to Gus.” 

“Gus?” Bliss repeated and her frown deepened. 

“Mmm,” I said lightly and ran a finger through my hair again. “I think he’s interested in you, and I can see why.” 

“You can?” Bliss asked. 

“Yes, I...” I shrugged lightly. “He’s a nice guy, and you two seem to have a lot of things in common. It makes perfect sense that he’s interested in you. And I suppose you’re interested in him, too, right?” 

The sound of Bliss’ flipflops echoed slightly as she walked over to me. She wasn’t frowning anymore, but she nevertheless looked quite serious, and I didn’t fully understand why. I thought that we were joking around and having a good time. 

“Actually, I’m far more interested in you,” she said, and her voice was hushed but nevertheless very coherent. 

I blinked. What does that mean? I don’t understand what she’s saying right now. This doesn’t make any sense. 

I did my utmost to understand what she was saying right now, but it didn’t make a wink of sense to me. It didn’t matter how I tried to twist and turn her words. I still couldn’t get it to make sense. 

“Bliss-“ 

I never got to finish the sentence. I wasn’t even sure what the end of the sentence was gonna be. Suddenly, she was coming closer, and before I could fully grasp what was happening, she was kissing me. 

Kissing me. My brain stopped working for a moment, and suddenly, it felt as though I couldn’t breathe. As though everything had just... Stopped for a moment. The world slowed down for a fraction of a second, and the noise from the bar vanished entirely. The noisy street right next to us disappeared. I froze, completely unable to move. I couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening right now. I was just vaguely aware that I had slumped back against the wall once more. 

Her hands were resting lightly on my cheeks, and god, she had such soft hands. Soft and warm hands. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was how soft her lips were against mine. Only the lightest of pressure against my own. 

And the third one was how good she smelled. Of honey and cocoa and a third thing I couldn’t quite name, but it was definitely something sweet. For a moment I was overwhelmed entirely by what I was feeling. For a moment, I could only think of Bliss and her soft, perfect lips against my own. I was overwhelmed by her. Bliss in her yellow dress and unmatching nail polish and untamable curls and infectious laughter. For a moment, everything was perfect, and I didn’t want to stop kissing her. 

Everything... Everything felt good. I want her closer. I want her closer right now. I don’t want this to stop. The world around us was still completely quiet, and my mind was more muddled than ever as I returned her kiss. Her lips against my own were starting to make me ever so slightly dizzy, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about it. It didn’t... It didn’t matter. Not really. 

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to slide my hands up and rest them on her shoulders. I wanted to touch her warm, warm hands. I wanted to interlace my fingers with hers. I wanted her closer. No, I needed her closer. She smelled so good. The scent of her shampoo filled my nostrils. And her lips against mine were so soft. So wonderful. So perfect. I want to-

But then I snapped out of it and came back to reality. And reality was unpleasant. Suddenly, I could hear everything again. The noise coming from the bar. The cars driving by. Reality came crashing down upon me and reminded me of certain things. My brain started working again, and I realized that this was something that couldn’t actually happen. Something that shouldn’t happen. What the hell was I even doing? And more importantly, why was I doing it? And what was Bliss doing?! She knew that this couldn’t happen. She knew that I wasn’t in any position to do this. 

I quickly broke the kiss and pushed her away. “What... What are you doing?” 

“Something I have been wanting to do for a very long time,” Bliss answered. Her hands were still resting on my cheeks. 

I pushed her hands away from my face. “I can’t,” I said firmly. Or I tried to sound firm. My mind was fuzzy with alcohol, and there was a fair chance that it affected my voice as well as my judgement. 

“Ella-“ 

“No,” I interrupted and shook my head once. The movement was making me dizzy. “Look... I’m drunk, alright? And so are you. That’s why this...” I gestured vaguely between us. “That’s why this happened.” 

“You think that’s the only reason it happened?” Bliss asked calmly. 

I shook my head once more. “I can’t. You should go back inside.” 

“And what will you do?” Bliss asked and her coffee colored eyes narrowed slightly. 

“Find a taxi,” I said. “I’ve had too much to drink, so I think I’ll be going home.” 

I offered her no goodbye as I started walking down the street in my search for a taxi. I had to get home, and I had to get home right now. God, this had been one huge mistake. I had to leave before the alcohol started to affect my legs. And my ability to form a coherent sentence.

But Bliss wasn’t far behind me. It didn’t take long before I felt her hand on my arm. “Ella, wait! Don’t leave.” 

But I paid little attention to her plead. I had already spotted what I was looking for. A taxi. Thank god. I really need to go home and lie down. Maybe the world would stop spinning if I laid down for a while.   
A long while. I pushed her hand off me and staggered over to the taxi as fast as I could without tripping. Why did I wear high heels tonight? Finally, I managed to yank the car door open, and I clumsily climbed into the passenger’s seat and gave the driver my address. By some mere miracle, I didn’t slur as I informed him where I was going. But it was very possible that I was being a bit bossy as I ordered him to “hurry, please”. 

“Sure thing, ma’am,” he said briskly. 

I quickly slammed the car door shut and fumbled a bit with my seatbelt. Made sure that I had my wallet, phone and housekeys in my purse. All three items were there, and once again, I asked him to please hurry. 

He snickered a little as he started the engine and turned the car around. 

I leaned my head back against the head support and closed my eyes. I refused to look in the rearview mirror. I was afraid that I would discover that Bliss was still standing by the wall outside the bar. 

It was better not knowing. It was most definitely better not knowing. Right now, I simply needed to go home and sleep this away.

If I had to worry about anything, it would simply have to wait until tomorrow....


	12. Chapter Twelve

For a sole minute, I thought I was going to die when I woke up the next morning. My head was pounding agonizingly, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth. I needed water. My entire mouth felt like sandpaper, and my eyelids appeared to have been glued together some time during the night.

I slowly turned my head. That didn’t lessen the pounding in any way, but I firmly ignored it and blinked a few times as I attempted to focus on the red numbers on the clock radio on the nightstand. After a few attempts, I succeeded. 08:00. I groaned quietly. It wasn’t even late. Why couldn’t I sleep in? Why did I always wake up early?

Because now that I was awake, it meant that I had to leave the bed. I needed to relieve myself, and more importantly, I needed water. Buckets and buckets of water. And then I needed an extra nap. And preferably a very long one. 

My jaw clenched as I carefully pushed myself up from the bed and into a sitting position. For a moment, the world was spinning before my eyes, and I had to bury my face in my hands for a moment. I felt dreadfully nauseous, and for a moment I considered to make a sprint into the bathroom. But the idea of running was simply too gruesome right now. And the nausea was slowly subsiding. I would just have to be careful when I moved. 

And I was. I was being exceptionally careful as I eased myself out of bed and stood on the floor for a moment. The clothes I had worn last night was lying carelessly stacked on a chair, I noted. I had clearly been in a hurry to go to bed last night. Perhaps I had aimed for getting into the bed before passing out. This headache certainly suggested that I’ve had plenty to drink last night. 

And now I was obviously scolding myself for it. Why on earth had decided to drink so much last night? I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t, so why hadn’t I been able to keep that promise to myself? I hadn’t been coaxed or called a “spoilsport”. I couldn’t blame anyone for this. Except for myself. 

I scoffed a little as I made it into the bathroom and did my business. This served me well. This was a very fair punishment for trying to be young with the young last night. 

I massaged my temples slightly. 

Young with the young. I frowned slightly. Why was that somehow ringing a bell? I tried to remember as I washed my hands. I remembered talking to Rick last night. He and I had talked a lot. I remembered ordering one more drink than what could be considered sensible. Unfortunately, I had no problem with remembering that. I splashed cold water onto my cheeks and wrists, hoping that that would somehow help. Why did I drink so much last night? Why couldn’t I just have been sensible?

I remembered that Rick had asked me to dance last night. And I remembered laughing while I had declined his offer. I had laughed a lot last night, I was sure of that. I’ve had a good night with my little group of new friends. If only I wasn’t so hungover now.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was tousled, and the hairpin I knew had been sitting perfect last night was now almost falling out. I quickly reached up and removed it from my hair. There were bags underneath my eyes, and my mascara was smudged. As were my lipstick. I looked exactly like I had been out drinking. What a scandal. 

I sighed slightly as I found a couple of makeup wipes in the bathroom cabinet. I looked a right mess, and I obviously had to do something about that. 

Once my face was wiped of last night’s makeup, I discarded of my pajamas and staggered into the shower. I was hoping that I somehow could wash and scrub the worst headache away. 

I only succeeded partially. I stayed longer under the warm stream of water than I normally would, and while I felt slightly more awake, my head was definitely still pounding. For once, I would be needing coffee for breakfast instead of tea. 

Breakfast. My stomach churned and I grimaced slightly as I rubbed a towel over my wet hair. No actual food for breakfast today. Only coffee. And preferably lots of it. and water. Lots of that too. God, why did I drink so much last night?

In an attempt to make myself feel better, I went over to the bathroom cabinet and found my favorite perfume. I normally only wore it for special occasions, but this was somewhat of an emergency. I quickly popped the lid off the bottle and sprayed a generous amount of the expensive drops onto my wrists. I then sat the bottle down on the little shelf underneath the mirror and raised my wrist slightly. 

I closed my eyes as I inhaled the scent of my favorite perfume. Grapefruit, vanilla and rose. The scent of rose was definitely the most dominating, and that was probably why I favored this perfume so much. I had always liked the smell of flowers. 

Flowers. Something tickled my brain and my eyes snapped open as I frowned slightly. What was it about flowers that tickled my muddled memories from last night? I had some vague memory about the smell of slightly exotic flowers last night, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else as well. Something about.... red flowers. 

My head throbbed as I unsuccessfully tried to remember what was so important about red flowers. Something was bothering me. I had an inkling that there was something I had forgotten. Something important. I just couldn’t for the life of me remember what, and it was very frustrating. 

I was still mulling over it as tied my still wet hair back in a ponytail and traded my towel for a bathrobe. I left my pajamas in the laundry basket and then I wandered back into my bedroom. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to put on a pair of yoga pants and a tanktop. Then I was gonna take a couple of aspirin, drink a solid cup of coffee and a large glass of water. And then I would fight the urge to go back to bed and go for a run instead. Yes, I was going to bring out my inner sadist and go for a run. That would be a very fair punishment for getting drunk last night. And maybe just maybe, a bit of fresh air would be enough to take the edge of my headache. One could only hope. 

First part of my plan went smoothly. I opened the bathroom cabinet and took two aspirin tablets. I padded downstairs with the pills in hand and made myself a solid cup of coffee. While I waited for my coffee, I downed the aspirin pills with a large glass of water. Once the first glass had been emptied, I poured myself a second one. I was going to need all the water I could get. 

Then finally, the coffee was ready, and I almost sighed in delight at the first sip. It was life-giving. If I drank enough, I would end up feeling like a human being again and not something that had just emerged from underneath a rock. 

As much as I wanted to just slurp the coffee down so I could have a second cup, I forced myself to take it slow. I was still nauseous, and I wasn’t interested in throwing up and ruining the neat plan I had made for myself. 

I even forced myself to reconsider whether I wanted to have breakfast or not. I tried to reason with myself. It wasn’t healthy to skip breakfast. I really ought to eat something. 

But once again my stomach protested at the mere thought, and I quickly decided to skip breakfast. Just this once. I could eat later when Lucas got home. 

Oh god, Lucas. I shook my head. He would know that I had been drinking last night, and he would have a grand old time teasing me about it. I knew him, and I knew that he wouldn’t let an opportunity like this go to waste. 

I slowly emptied my cup of coffee. My mind recoiled when I thought about my upcoming run, but I firmly ignored that as I sat the empty cup down and went into the hall where my running shoes were waiting for me. No excuses, Ella. You’re going for a run, and that’s final. This was my punishment for drinking last night. 

And I punished myself exceptionally hard by not even bringing my phone. There would be no podcast for me today. Wearing earbuds would probably only make my headache worse. I would look at my surroundings instead. 

I had barely started to run down Spear street before Mrs. Collins, our kindhearted, but curious neighbor spotted me and raised her hand in greeting. “Good morning, Mrs. Benson!” 

“Good morning, Mrs. Collins,” I said and did my utmost to smile and not grimace. Her voice was so loud. Had it always been so loud, or did it simply appear louder because of my throbbing head? 

I continued my run down Irish Hill road. I would follow that until I reached Dorset street and then Hinesburg road. I ignored my throbbing head and aching feet as I kept a steady pace. I would never go out again, and I would definitely never wear high heels ever again. It wasn’t worth it. It just wasn’t.

I showed myself very little mercy. I stubbornly ignored the way my head throbbed every time my feet hit the pavement. This run was both my punishment and my cure to get sober fast. Mrs. Williams, another one of our acquaintances waved when she saw me coming jogging down the street, and I was quick to smile and wave back. And then run along. Conversing wasn’t exactly on my program this morning. I was far too hungover and tired. 

But Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Collins weren’t the only ones I saw on my run. When I reached Hinesburg road, I saw Kate Franklin in her garden. She was clearly in the process of removing weed. It would appear that the beautiful weather had lured many people out in their gardens and coaxed them into doing garden work. 

I briefly considered to pretend I hadn’t seen Kate and continue my run. I liked Kate. She and I had enjoyed coffee many, many times, and while I liked her, I also knew that she was an incurable chatterbox. A five minute chat with her often turned into a fifteen minute one. And then a twenty minute one. It was a never ending spiral, and many times I had been annoyed when I left her house because I knew I had spent far too long there when I could have done something else with my time. 

Kate looked up, and I quelled a groan. She had seen me, and she knew that I had seen her. There had been eye contact between us, and not stopping to chat with her would definitely be rude. I couldn’t just run past her. I definitely couldn’t. 

So I slowed down and stopped entirely when I reached her house. Kate smiled as though she had expected me to do just that. 

I took a moment to catch my breath and scold my features into a smile. Then I reminded myself to sound as bright and upbeat as I always did. I didn’t want Kate to think any different. And I certainly didn’t want her to think that I was hungover. 

“Good morning, Kate,” I said and flashed her a smile. My voice sounded completely normal and not croaky in any way. I silently congratulated myself with that. 

“Good morning, Ella,” Kate said and rose from her kneeling position on the ground. She tugged off her garden gloves and smiled at me. “Bright and early.” 

“Yes, well, there’s so little time to go for a run later,” I effortlessly lied. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Kate said and shook her head slightly. “I would never be able to go for a run. I don’t have the stamina.” 

I laughed and did my best not to cringe when the sound made my head throb slightly again. “Believe me, I I’ve regretted starting many, many times. There are some mornings where I just want to skip it.”   
that wasn’t a lie. And it certainly wasn’t today.

“But I suppose it’s good for you,” Kate mused. “It’s good for everyone. Do you know what we ought to do?” 

“No,” I said and prayed that I sounded curious and not as flat as I felt. 

“Start a running group!” Kate said excitedly and clapped her hands together. “I know that both Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Lail would like to start running but never really have the time to go through with it. But if we did it together there wouldn’t be any excuses. And I think that doing it as a group would be a good motivation!” 

“It’s definitely something worth considering,” I said slowly. I knew that at some point, Kate would present the suggestion for Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Lail, and together the three of them would agree to ask me to be in charge of the “running group”. And I also knew that I would say that I was flattered but couldn’t do it. I was simply too busy with my art classes and Lucas. 

Kate wiped her brow with the back of her hand again. “It sure is warm today. Almost too warm to run. Why don’t you come in and have something cold and refreshing to drink, Ella?” 

“No thank you,” I smiled. “If I do that, I’ll just end up walking back home afterwards instead of continuing my run.” 

Kate laughed. “Then you should at least stay long enough to see my forsythia. It’s beautiful this year.” 

I agreed to that and followed Kate into her garden. The garden was her pride and joy, and I admired her for putting so much effort into it. I had never been much of a gardening person. I took care of our garden out of duty and not enjoyment. 

“Here we are,” Kate said and stretched out her arms as though she was showing me an artwork. And in a way, she was.

I smiled. “It’s beautiful this year, Kate.” 

“Yes, isn’t it,” she said proudly and touched the blooming bush so gently you could almost believe it was made of glass. “It’s really thriving this year.” 

“Did you use different fertilizer?” I politely inquired. “Or have you watered it differently?” 

“No,” Kate beamed. “That’s the incredible in it. I haven’t done anything different! In fact, I’ve barely been paying attention to it. I’ve been too busy with tending to the apple tree, and one morning it suddenly just flourished.” 

“That’s very impressive,” I said. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it be this yellow before!” Kate said and beamed as she once again touched the flowering bush. 

“It’s certainly-“ 

I stopped abruptly without finishing the sentence. Yellow. Yellow. Something tickled my memory. 

Yellow. A yellow dress. A yellow dress and red flowers in a mane of wild, black curls. A slightly dusty brick wall behind me. Those dark curls occasionally brushing against my cheek. Soft, warm lips pressing against my own. 

Oh god.

“Ella? Dear, are you alright? You look a little pale.” 

Only now I registered the hand on my arm. “I’m fine,” I said quickly. Probably too quickly to be convincing. 

And sure enough, Kate wasn’t convinced. “It’s the sun!” she declared. “Why don’t you come inside and have something cold to drink? I think sitting down for five minutes will do you some good.” 

“No-no, I’m fine,” I said again, this time more convincing. “Really, I am. But I better get going now. I have to pick up Lucas soon and...” I left the rest of the sentence hanging. 

“Of course,” Kate said with a nod. “Come in for coffee soon.” 

“I will. See you later, Kate.” 

“Have a nice run, Ella. I’ll let you know what Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Lail thinks of my suggestion.” 

“Thank you.” 

I forced myself to walk away slowly and controlled. My heart was hammering against my ribs as I left Kate’s garden and turned my back on her forsythia bush. As soon as I was back on the street, and Kate had gone back to tending to her garden, I resumed my “run”. Only I didn’t run. I sprinted. Away from Kate’s house and Hinesburg street. I didn’t stop when I reached Bean road. I just kept running for dear life. I didn’t even have a particular destination in mind, my feet simply carried me. 

Maybe that was the reason why I suddenly found myself standing at the end of Bingham Brook road. There wasn’t any more road in front of me. Only fields. I couldn’t hear the traffic anymore. Only the faint rustling in the wind and the occasional chirps from a bird or two. 

The air exploded out of my lungs as I finally allowed myself to breathe. And remember. 

“He’s a nice guy, and you two seem to have a lot of things in common. I understand why he’s interested in you, and you in him. It makes perfect sense, really.”

“Actually, I’m far more interested in you.”

That’s what Bliss had said last night when we standing outside. That’s what she had said right before she had kissed me. 

I brought one hand down and massaged my ribs slightly in an attempt to make the stabbing sensation go away. It was odd, really. I knew that my sprint had made my ribs hurt, but the sensation was somehow dulled. Easily overshadowed by the realization I’ve just had. 

Bliss had kissed me last night. I had kissed Bliss last night. 

Oh god, no. No, no, no, no.

“No,” I said quietly. But saying it out loud didn’t exactly change anything. No, it had really happened. That kiss had really happened. 

I shook my head and ignored the pain shooting through my skull at the movement. 

I had kissed someone that wasn’t my husband last night. I had.... I had cheated on my husband of twenty one years. I shook my head again. Exactly what had I been thinking last night?! Was this really how sensitive I had gotten to alcohol? 

Oh, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to blame this entirely on Bliss, but I wasn’t that much of a coward. She hadn’t just kissed me, I had participated in that kiss as well. 

God, what was wrong with me?! I was a married woman. A married woman who had a son. I was living the perfect suburban life with my family like I had done it for the past thirteen years. And Bliss was a twenty two year old woman. There was only one explanation for my insane behavior last night. Alcohol. I’ve had far too much to drink and my good judgement had failed me for a millisecond. Yes. That was it. 

But that kiss lasted longer than a millisecond. My face twisted into a grimace. My subconscience certainly had a point. Why hadn’t I ended that silly kiss sooner? I could remember what had happened last night. I hadn’t been that drunk. 

I turned around. I was done running now. I just wanted to go home and splash more cold water onto my face. I needed it. 

But the cold water didn’t have the desired effect. I didn’t feel refreshed in any way. If anything, I felt worse. If that was even possible. 

What on earth had I been thinking last night? This was not.... I didn’t do stuff like this. I wasn’t the type who went out and got drunk and kissed someone. I wasn’t the type who cheated on my husband. 

And Bliss was a woman. I didn’t kiss women. The idea of kissing a woman was completely foreign. I had never even thought about kissing a woman before. Not once. 

I splashed more cold water onto my cheeks. What was going on with me? Why was I suddenly kissing another woman just because I had one too many last night? It didn’t make any sense.

“I’m not gay,” I said to myself and immediately felt silly.

But the question was, what was I then? Experimenting? Bisexual? Confused? Or maybe just so knee deep in my midlife crisis, I now questioned everything and had lost all sense of my good judgement? 

After having splashed a bit more cold water onto my face, I decided to take this for exactly what it was. A drunken mistake. A silly, drunken mistake.

A mistake that couldn’t happen again, of course. And a mistake I was embarrassed about. Because even though Bliss was the one who had initiated the kiss, I had most definitely participated in it. And that was a right mess. Bliss had been as drunk as I was last night, and of course she hadn’t meant what she said last night. No, the kiss had happened simply because I had been the one standing out there in front of the bar. Had it been Gus or Alexandra lingering out there, Bliss would have kissed one of them, I was sure of that. This was simply a “wrong place, wrong time”-situation and nothing more. 

But nevertheless, I was very embarrassed about it, and so after I was done in the bathroom, I walked downstairs and sat down in front of my laptop. As soon as the screen had come alive, I logged into my email account and wrote an email to Griselda Abbott in which I explained that I was sick and wouldn’t be coming for the lesson this Tuesday. I couldn’t just sit there and paint Bliss like nothing had happened. That wasn’t right. I knew that lying and telling Griselda I was sick was a coward thing to do, and once I was done being mortified, I would come up with a more solid excuse. A reason to stay away from the art classes. Permanently. 

There were other art classes. Or perhaps I could find a new hobby. Maybe language. I had always wanted to learn to speak French. 

I could find something else to do with my time. One of things being burying this deep. For a fraction of a second, I had considered to tell Stephen about this, but I had to be sensible. I had been drunk last night. I hadn’t been completely.... there. It had been a mistake. I couldn’t risk everything over a mistake. 

Maybe I could tell Delia about it. One day. In a few hundredth years when I wasn’t embarrassed about it anymore. 

I concluded the email to Griselda Abbott with a “Sincerely, Ella Benson”, and I felt satisfied with my own effort as I clicked “send”. There. Now I didn’t have to worry about facing Bliss this Tuesday. Or the next for that matter. She probably lived far away from Shelburne. With any luck, I would never have to worry about running into her again. As long as I avoided Pauline’s Café and Restaurant. But I could do that. There were plenty of other restaurants around here. 

I breathed a sigh of relief as I logged out of my email account and then closed the laptop once more. Now that this was out of the world and had been taken care of, I could concentrate on moving along with my day. The run had made me sweaty. I needed another shower. And preferably a warmer one this time. 

I pushed the chair back and left the bedroom. I hoped that the shower would soothe the ache I was feeling in most of my muscles. I had been quite the fool and had forgotten to stretch and warm up before heading out on my run. I had been so focused on relieving my headache, I had forgotten to think of the rest of my body, and now I was paying the price. 

But maybe the price was entirely fitting. Considering what I had done last night. As I stood there under the stream of warm water, I saw a yellow dress and red flowers in wild curls before my inner eyes, and I immediately scolded myself for thinking about things I had no business thinking about. 

It was a mistake. Just a drunken, silly mistake. Nothing more. 

I grabbed the loofah and began scrubbing my skin almost aggressively. I had emailed Griselda and told her that I wouldn’t be coming for the next lesson. There was nothing more to think about. The only thing I did have to worry about was my hangover. And black conscience. Because of course I felt so incredibly guilty for having done this. I had cheated on my husband of twenty one years. We were supposed to celebrate our anniversary when he got home, for god’s sake. Once again, I asked myself what on earth I had been thinking last night. 

But I couldn’t change the fact that it had happened. My intoxication was definitely a part of the reason, but it wasn’t an excuse, and now I had to live with the consequences. A black conscience. The guilt sat in the pit of my stomach like a massive stone. An extra weight I now had to carry with me whether I wanted to or not. 

After spending too long under the warm stream, I finally switched the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack. My movements weren’t any less aggressive as I toweled myself off, wrenched the water out of my hair and then once again tied the honey golden locks back into a ponytail. I noted that I was dizzy when I bowed down to pick up my running clothes. Whether it was from running, remembering what had happened last night, the hangover or the fact that I hadn’t had any breakfast remained unclear, but it would probably be wise to eat something either way. 

“Mum? Are you home?” 

Perfect timing. Now I could make lunch for Lucas as well. 

“I’ll be down in a minute, honey,” I called as I quickly replaced the towel with a bathrobe and then scurried into the bedroom to get dressed.

Lucas was already in the process of raiding the fridge when I got downstairs dressed and done up. He was holding on to the bag of white bread for dear life, and I suspected that he was looking for the hazelnut butter. 

“Lucas,” I said mildly.

“Trevor’s mom served healthy oatmeal for breakfast and I’m a growing boy,” he defended. 

I chuckled against my will. I supposed he had a point there. He was most certainly a growing boy. In fact he was growing rapidly. I held my tongue while he smeared the hazelnut butter all over a piece of bread and then made himself a sandwich.

“So?” he inquired between large bites of the bread. “Was it fun last night?” 

“Yes, it was... Fun,” I said and cursed myself for sounding so unsure. 

“But?” Lucas coaxed and raised an eyebrow. 

“Not buts,” I said quickly. “I just had a bit too much to drink that’s all.” 

Lucas laughed shamelessly. “Are you hungover, mum?” 

“No. Of course not.” 

Luckily, he quickly dropped the subject and took another bite of his unhealthy lunch. 

“So...” he said after having chewed the too big bite. “I was thinking about Grandma’s birthday party.” 

“What about it?” I asked, and now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. 

“Trevor has said that I can stay at his place, and his mum said that it was okay too,” Lucas said, rushing through the suggestion. 

“You don’t want to go?” I asked, not surprised and definitely not disappointed either, but admittedly a little sad that my son seemingly had gone out of his way to avoid seeing his grandmother. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to go,” Lucas said and grimaced slightly. “It’s just that I don’t want to listen to Grandma going on and on about math all night. That’s all.” 

“I’m sure she’ll be too busy to talk about math, Lucas,” I answered and did my best to soothe his fears. 

My answer was met with an eyeroll and a headshake. “Come on, mom,” Lucas half-groaned. “She’s always talking about math when I’m there.” 

“Then I’ll ask her to stop it. Like I always do,” I said and did my best to laugh and strengthen Lucas’ belief that this was a little private joke between him and I and not an ongoing war against his grandmother and her twisted beliefs. 

Lucas laughed, but I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was genuinely amused or simply doing it to humor me. 

“You’re not going to let me stay home, are you?” he asked plainly. 

I tried not to cringe as I answered him. “I think your father would be very sad if you weren’t there to celebrate Grandma.” 

“You mean he would be disappointed.” 

“Lucas.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lucas sighed. “I’m just... really tired of having my math skills weighed and measured every time we visit Grandma. I’m actually trying my best!” 

“Of course you are,” I said firmly. “I already know that, and so does your father. If the subject comes up, I’ll ask him to have a chat with his mother.” 

“Really?” 

“You have my word,” I assured him. 

Lucas was clearly on the brink of asking me another question, but a loud growl coming from my stomach interrupted all attempts at conversation. 

I shook my head and rolled my eyes slightly. That was loud. 

“Haven’t you had any lunch yet?” Lucas inquired. 

“No, not yet,” I said and neglected to tell him that I actually hadn’t had any breakfast either. 

He grinned a little as he held out the second piece of bread towards me. “Hazelnut butter sandwich?” 

“Thank you,” I said as I took the sandwich from him and took a large bite of it. It had been god knows how long since I last had tasted hazelnut butter, and it tasted so good I closed my eyes and “mm’ed!”   
for a moment. 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for ages,” Lucas teased. 

I scowled slightly. “This is not gonna happen again.” 

“No. Not until the next time,” Lucas grinned. 

“I’m serious, young man,” I said firmly. 

He just laughed shamelessly at me. “Maybe I should hide that hazelnut butter from you, mum. I think you’re addicted.” 

“No, I’m not,” I declared between bites of white bread smeared with hazelnut butter. At least I had been out running earlier. I was allowed to sin a little. 

“So you don’t want another sandwich?” Lucas asked innocently. 

“Definitely not.” 

“You sure? Not even if I put honey on it?” he continued as he opened the top cabinet and whipped out the bottle of honey. 

“No thank you, Lucas,” I said. My eyes lingered on the bottle of honey. The very yellow bottle. 

A yellow dress and red flowers in dark hair. 

My jaw clenched and suddenly the hazelnut butter sandwich didn’t taste as good as it had done a moment ago. The bottle of honey was invading my vision and it took me a moment before I remembered   
how to look away. 

Don’t be ridiculous, Ella, I scolded myself. This was silly. There was nothing to think about. Nothing at all. And the sandwich my son had just offered me shouldn’t feel this dry in my mouth. It made me feel like some villain who didn’t appreciate what he had done for me. One more thing to add to the black conscience. 

A yellow dress flowing in the soft breeze. 

I closed my eyes and shook my head firmly once more. My head was throbbing again. It was very possible that I would have to treat myself to another aspirin in the near future. 

I would just have to steer clear of anything yellow for a while. I glanced out of the window and it didn’t take long before my gaze were drawn to the massive, yellow forsythia in the garden. Admittedly, the yellow bush wasn’t as impressive as Kate’s. I hadn’t been tending to it properly, so it actually looked a bit messy at the moment. And I doubted that no amount of watering could do anything about it. But maybe that wasn’t so bad. Maybe I would just have to cut the damn thing down. Maybe that would be better. 

At least that was the excuse I was going to use when Lucas asked me why I was destroying the bush. 

I took another bite of the sandwich and did my best to smile at my son who was chatting about his overnight stay at Trevor’s. I was relieved that Lucas hadn’t noticed my odd behavior. I was relieved that he thought that everything was exactly how it always was. 

Maybe that was enough to reassure me that everything indeed was exactly how it always was. Nothing had changed overnight. Nobody had gained new personalities. Nothing of importance had happened last night. 

The sandwich felt dry in my mouth. 

“Mum?” 

“Yes, Lucas?” I said immediately. 

“Can I call dad?” he asked. 

“Yes. Absolutely,” I said eagerly and nodded. “And give me the phone when you’re done talking to him. I’d like to speak to him as well.” 

“Sure,” Lucas said. 

He talked to his father for exactly five minutes. Then he handed me the phone, and I happily engaged in a conversation with my husband. Stephen complained about the company, but for once, it didn’t bother me. For once, it was like music to my ears, and I made sure to pay attention and comment on everything he said. And once the conversation ended, I told him that I loved him and that I was looking   
forward to a night out with him where we celebrated our anniversary.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: this chapter contains a sex scene.

That Tuesday, I felt restless. It started the moment I opened my eyes, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling.

The feeling that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. 

This wasn’t right. My mind kept whispering that all morning. Kept murmuring about finding my sketchbook in the studio and stuffing it into my bag along with my pencils so I would be ready to go to the art class this afternoon. 

More than one time, I had closed my eyes and firmly reminded myself that I wouldn’t be attending that art lesson. And that was just how things were gonna be. Griselda Abbott had already per email expressed how sorry she was that I wasn’t feeling well, and she furthermore hoped that I would be in “tiptop” shape next week. 

I would have to disappoint her. I wouldn’t be in tiptop shape the next week. Nor the next. Or the week after that. 

Because I was never coming back to that place. I had already decided that. I couldn’t come back. Not after Bliss and I had......

Now that the alcohol was completely out of my system, I had no problem with remembering what had happened, and the idea that I was supposed to sit there and sketch her and act like nothing had happened was ridiculous. I couldn’t do that. No. It was far, far better to stay away. Far away. 

And so, I ignored the way my sketchbook was calling out for me that Tuesday midday. Instead I sat down in front of the laptop and began googling different classes I could sign myself up for instead. 

There were lots of things I could choose. Pottery. Flower decoration. Photography. Creative writing. Language. Arabic. Spanish. Italian. Chinese. Korean. German. French. 

I was strongly considering to sign up for the French class. I had always wanted to learn French. Not that I was counting on ever going to Paris or anywhere else in France for that matter, but still, the language was sophisticated, and I hoped that the difficulties of learning another language would prevent me entirely from thinking about yellow dresses and red flowers nestled in black curls. I had to pull myself together and stop beating up myself over a silly, drunken mistake. 

But unfortunately, it didn’t take long before my gaze wandered from the laptop to the window. I could see our garden from that window. I could see the yellow forsythia bush. 

My jaw clenched slightly. I hadn’t cut the bush down like I had vowed to do that Sunday morning. I had changed my mind simply because I was paranoid enough to believe that Stephen would ask a million questions as to why I had decided to murder the flourishing bush. And honestly, I couldn’t think of any satisfying answers. There was nothing wrong with the bush. It wasn’t withering nor was it in any way sick. Telling my husband that I had cut the bush down simply because I wanted too was not a good enough answer. It wasn’t an “Ella-answer”. 

But then what was an Ella answer? I couldn’t seem to remember. I couldn’t remember what I normally said or did or how I normally reacted. I felt as though I had been replaced with a robot that sort of looked and spoke like me, but not entirely. The thing was that I felt like that Saturday night had changed something. Had changed me. I wasn’t normally this anxious. I had been sort of restless lately, but not like this. I couldn’t concentrate properly. Not even when Lucas said something to me. 

And that was a major problem. Not paying attention when my son talked to me wasn’t alright. Lucas had been so closed off lately, so unreachable, and instead of listening to what he said now that he was finally communicating, I wasn’t paying attention and thinking of all sorts of things. That was scandalous. And unacceptable. I felt like an awful mother every time Lucas had to repeat what he just said because I wasn’t paying attention. 

But I refused to address the direct source as to why I was so unfocused these days. It was only very late at night when I was supposed to sleep that she crept into my mind. Of course that only annoyed me further, and of course that annoyance didn’t exactly to a peaceful night of sleep. 

I looked a fright. I had bags under my eyes, and my eyes looked glassy. Almost lifeless. That excuse I had made to Griselda Abbott about being sick wasn’t that far off. I certainly looked like I was sick today. 

And in a way, I suppose I was. Sick of myself. Sick of not being able to concentrate, and sick of thinking about something that hadn’t mattered. Something that just had been a silly, drunken mistake. 

My fingers tapped angrily against the keyboard, and I cringed when the keyboard creaked slightly. There was no reason to break the keyboard. It was bad enough that I already had considered to cut down a perfectly beautiful bush because of a moment’s madness. There was nothing wrong with that bush. The thought alone had been ridiculous. My jaw clenched once more as I checked the dates for those French lessons. 

Two hours two times a week. Tuesday and Thursday. That suited me perfectly. That meant I would have something to do on Tuesdays. Perfect. I could imagine that learning was very difficult, and I soon pictured myself hunched over difficult textbooks and listening to the language on my phone while I painted. Because I had every intention to keep painting. Just not with a group. I would do it on my own. 

And maybe that would actually turn out to be the better decision. There would be fewer distractions if I painted here. I could easily switch my phone off for a few hours and then retire to my little studio a few hours every day. 

Yes. That was a good plan. A very good plan. The best plan. 

I released a puff of air. Then I quickly signed myself up for those French lessons. It didn’t take long before I received a confirmation email from one Adéle Tournier. So it was an actual French person who   
would be conducting these lessons. That was good. That way, I would learn the language from a direct source. 

But to my utter disappointment, signing up for the French lessons didn’t fill me with any type of excitement. Of course, I was pleased about it. Learning new things were always a good thing, but I wasn’t thrilled. I wasn’t bubbling with excitement like I had been with the art lessons. And I was growing increasingly aware of the fact that I was “supposed” to be driving to the class in only fifteen minutes. My inner clock was yelling at me to get a move on. I need to find my sketchbook. I need to find my pencils. I need to find my find my charcoal pencils too. I left those in the bottom drawer and-

No. I shook my head firmly once. I was not going to those lessons. And that was final. This Thursday, however, I would be attending my first French lesson. Wasn’t that exciting? 

Strangely enough, no. But there was little to be done about it. I would just have to think of it as an experience. I could always quit if it wasn’t for me. 

Not feeling overly satisfied with my own effort, I closed the laptop and pushed the chair back. I had done exactly what I had intended to do. If I kept sitting in front of the laptop, it would be categorized as “wasting time”, and I wasn’t interested in that. No, I wanted to do something sensible with my time. Something normal. Something that would prove that nothing had changed. That everything was the same. That I was the same. 

I scowled slightly as I made my way upstairs and into my little studio. I had been so excited when I had painted and decorated this room, but not it just looked like a room with purple walls. A middle aged woman’s desperate attempt to pretend she was still a college student. 

I pursed my lips as I closed the door behind me. I wasn’t allowed to think like that. This was my studio, and this was my time to paint. My sacred hour. I should use that in a sensible manner instead of moping. 

I hadn’t touched my sketchbook since the last art lesson, and now I suddenly wished that I hadn’t touched it today either. 

Because every page was filled with pictures of her. And naturally, that shouldn’t have come as a shock. I was well aware over which motive I had been sketching for these past two months. 

But that had been before everything had changed. That had been before that silly-

No. I was not thinking about that. I refused to think about that. I so wished I had been so drunk I couldn’t remember anything, but unfortunately, my mind wasn’t that merciful. Now that I was completely sober, I could remember most of the things that had happened that night. Admittedly, it was possible that some minor details had gotten lost in too much alcohol, but I could remember most of the things that had happened. The important things. 

And I hated that I was able to remember it. I hated that my memories were completely intact. Why couldn’t I just have forgotten it? Was a little blissful oblivion really too much to ask?   
Blissful. Blissful. 

I closed my eyes and sighed gravely. I was supposed to draw. Not drive myself mad. 

I would let this go. Right now. I found a blank page in the sketchbook, grabbed my pencils and then I began sketching like I had never done it before. My movements were aggressive, and I brought the pencil down with such force, I almost tore through the paper. 

I wasn’t completely sure whether I was punishing myself for being a bloody fool, or the sketchbook for being filled with pictures of her. Either way, I was annoyed, and the sketch reflected that. It was sloppy. Not nearly as good as I knew it could have been. Put a little more effort into it, Ella, I firmly reminded myself. Perhaps I wasn’t sitting in a room with other students and a teacher present, but that didn’t matter. I could be my own teacher. In fact, I could probably do a far better job at being a teacher than Griselda could. She had never criticized much, and right now, that was exactly what I needed. A healthy dose of criticism. And a healthy dose of reality too. 

A reminder to stop acting like such a bloody fool. 

I abruptly stopped painting and looked down at the motive in the sketchbook. And the yellow pencil between my fingers. I never should have allowed my mind to drift like that. Not if the result was this. A half-finished motive of a yellow dress in my sketchbook. 

Sighing deeply, I tore the page out of the sketchbook and started over. 

In the end, my stubbornness paid off, and I managed to draw something that wasn’t yellow. Or red for that matter. Or had anything to do with flowers. No, I allowed myself to be inspired by my upcoming French lessons and drew one of those little pavement cafes. I was careful to add as much detail to the drawing as possible. I added shadows and made sure that anyone could see there was a tablecloth on the table. Next, I drew the cup of coffee standing on the little round table. Then the plate and the croissant laying on it. Quintessential French. Lots of details. I knew that this was a decent drawing. Maybe even a good one. But I wasn’t satisfied. The Parisian street was eerily abandoned. The drawing seemed lifeless. Flat. It felt as though my muse completely had deserted me. 

Perhaps it would be wise of me to give up drawing at least for a little while. I had been sketching and painting pretty much all the time since I had joined the art class, but maybe it was time for a break. A breather. By doing other things I could be all the more motivated and inspired the next time I decided to open my sketchbook again. Was that an idea? 

I blew gently on the paper to ensure that the drawing was completely dry. I felt down in the dumps. Everything was working against me these days. Or so it felt. 

My wallowing in self-pity was cut short when I heard the sound of the front door being opened and then closed. Footsteps in the hallway and then the slight thud when a schoolbag was dumped unceremoniously on the floor. 

I decided to call the quits on drawing for today. Lucas was home from school, and he was bound to be hungry. He always was when he got back from school. 

I put the sketchbook and pencil down and left the studio to go downstairs and greet my son. 

Lucas looked up in sheer surprise when I showed up downstairs. “What are you doing here?” he asked almost accusingly. 

“And hello to you too,” I half-teased. 

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Hello. What are you doing here?” 

I shrugged lightly. “You’re not complaining that I’m going to make you lunch, are you?” 

“No, but aren’t you supposed to be at that.... art thingy today?” Lucas asked, frowning in confusion as he opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice. 

“I’ve decided to take a break from drawing,” I announced and was sure to keep my voice light and casual. 

Lucas’ frown deepened as he now poured himself a solid glass of orange juice. “Why? I thought you really liked it.” 

“Honey, please don’t pour any more than you can drink,” I admonished.

He rolled his eyes. “Why are you taking a break from drawing? You liked it. You were always so happy when you got home from one of those classes.” 

“I sure was,” I agreed. “But I thought it would be better to move on to something else. Something new. Something I’ve never tried before. I think that could be a nice challenge for me.” 

“Okay,” Lucas said and poured himself a second glass of orange juice. “What are you gonna do then?” 

“I’ve signed up for French lessons,” I said and did my utmost to sound excited about it. 

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Are we going to France?” 

“No.” 

“Then why do you want to learn French? That’s weird. We don’t even live in Europe.” 

“Lucas,” I scolded and narrowed my eyes. 

“Sorry, mum,” he said and had the decency to look sheepish. “So. French.” 

“Yes. French,” I nodded. 

“That’s very.... cultural,” he said diplomatically.

I laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. It’s certainly a sophisticated language.” 

“Is that why you want to learn it?” Lucas teased. 

“Yes, your unsophisticated old mum wants to learn how to be sophisticated,” I quipped dryly. 

“You’re not old,” he scoffed. 

The smile I flashed him was a bit more forced than the previous ones. That was the second time someone had told me that lately, and I tried to force myself not to think of the first person who had said that to me. 

“At least not that old,” Lucas teased. 

“Excuse me, young man,” I scolded and threatened him with a dishtowel. 

He laughed as he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, mum.” 

“That’s better. Now, what do you want for lunch?” 

It turned out that he didn’t want me to make his lunch anyway. He pointed out that he was “almost fourteen and could make his own lunch”. 

I agreed with him, but still felt a slight pang of sadness as I watched him open the fridge to prepare his lunch. Another part of my little boy was disappearing. Another part of my little boy that I would never see again, and yes, even though it was silly, that made me a little sad. 

But fortunately enough, Lucas didn’t notice it, and he happily kept teasing me about my French lessons. I took his teasing in strides and hoped that those lessons would turn out to be very difficult and distracting. I needed all the distraction I could get. 

That Thursday, I went to my very first French lesson. My fellow language learners were significantly older than me, and deeply focused on learning French. None of them said much except for when they were supposed to, but I told myself that I didn’t mind that. After all, I was there to learn French. Not chitchat. 

But deep down, I missed the cozy chitchat I had shared with the little group of people I had met at the art classes. I missed Gus and Alexandra, Yvonne and Rick, Wendy, Robert and....

No. 

Definitely not.

I was not allowed to think like that. 

I held my head high and went about my business the following week. The Tuesday was difficult. My sketchbook was still calling out for me, and even though I did add some detail to my Parisian street, it wasn’t quite the same as it had been when I had been attending the art lessons. My muse was still painfully absent. 

But I tried not to let it get to me. “Painter’s block” was something that happened to all “artists”. I would just have to be patient. 

Naturally, I had come up with yet another excuse for my absence at this weekend. Not a very good excuse, I had felt quite uninspired when I had typed the email, and I had ended up telling Griselda that I   
was suffering from pollen allergy at the moment and therefore couldn’t come to the lesson. Griselda had expressed her desire for a “speedy recovery” and then written that she hoped to see me at next week’s lesson. Everyone missed me, she claimed. 

I had wondered whether the term “everyone” was actually covering, well...... Everyone. And then I had immediately scolded myself. 

That week had been difficult. As much as I did to distract myself from thinking during the day, but as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t very well force myself to stop dreaming. And I did. I dreamt of red flowers and the color yellow and warm hands cupping my cheeks. Soft lips against my own.

And I hated myself for it. It was wrong of me to dream about the “incident”. The drunken, silly incident. It had only lasted a few seconds. I had been drunk. She had been drunk. It had obviously been a mistake, so really, I had no business dreaming about it. Absolutely no business whatsoever. 

So why was it that I couldn’t force the dreams out of my mind? I had tried everything. I had listened to music before bedtime. I had stayed up late and sketched. I had read in bed. And one time I had even watched a thriller before bedtime. 

And it hadn’t helped. None of it had. The dreams had continued. A dusty brick wall behind me, soft, warm lips against my own. Gentle hands cupping my cheeks. 

Perhaps I was going mad. I couldn’t think of any other reason. 

The next week was better. I went to both my French lessons, and I dearly hoped that I would grow to appreciate them as much as I had appreciate the art classes. 

Adéle Tournier was quite the strict teacher and I was actually grateful for that. Being challenged was definitely good for me. 

And that Friday, Stephen came home. Looking as tired and stressed as ever, and the smiles he flashed Lucas appeared to be ever so slightly forced. 

But I ignored that as I welcomed him home with a kiss on the cheek and my usual: “How was work, dear?” 

Stephen replied that it had been a couple of stressful weeks for him, and he didn’t hide that going to his mother’s birthday party in Ludlow was a bit of a nuisance to him. 

I dutifully listened to his complains and noted how normal this were. How wonderfully normal my husband was acting. How normal the conversation between him and Lucas were. 

As the day went on, I started to wonder if I just had imagined that drunken mistake two weeks ago. Because life continued in exactly the same fashion as it always did. Nothing, absolutely nothing had changed. And obviously, I should feel grateful for that, but I didn’t. Instead I felt restless. Again. 

As I ate lunch with my husband and son, I was actually starting to grow ever so slightly worried about myself. Surely, this sort of restlessness couldn’t be normal? Perhaps I needed to talk to someone. 

Someone professional. Maybe I should start seeing a psychiatrist to get to the bottom of this midlife crisis. Perhaps a psychiatrist could give me some tools to handle this crisis I was seemingly going through. It was definitely something worth considering. Perhaps I would start researching psychiatrists when we got back from Ludlow. I knew that there probably would be a very long waiting list, but that was okay. I could wait. Of course I could. 

In the meantime, I would keep quiet about it to Stephen and Lucas. There was no reason to let them know that I had been struggling some lately. There was no reason to worry them. Lucas was a sensitive child. This would undoubtedly worry him, and I didn’t want him to worry about anything. Ever. I knew that was unrealistic, but I would at least do my part to ensure that he wasn’t worrying about anything. Least of all me. 

And Stephen, well.... He was plenty busy with the company and the rough patch it was going through. He was stressed because of it. The last thing he needed was another thing to worry about. 

I would do my utmost to pretend that everything was as it always was. That I was the same old Ella. Wife of Stephen and Lucas’ mother. 

That same evening, I went upstairs to the bedroom and changed into my nice, midnight blue dress with the long sleeves. I slid on a pair of sheer nylon stockings, wiggled my feet into my high heels and then I brushed my hair until it shined honey golden. To do something a little extra, I put on a pair of earrings and a golden chain to match. I had just finished putting on mascara and was in the process of applying a bit of pale peach lipstick when Stephen came into the bedroom. I glanced at him in the mirror. He looked quite nice in his black dress pants and a navy button down. Very neat. It looked as though he had pressed his dress pants recently. Stephen never wore jeans. He claimed that he couldn’t wear jeans in the office. It would make him look slobby, he said. 

I understood why he prefer to wear dress pants in the office, but now I caught myself wondering why he didn’t wear jeans when he was home. I remembered that he had worn jeans quite a lot when we were in college, and now I was suddenly wondering why he didn’t anymore. 

“You look very beautiful tonight, my dear,” he said as he caught me looking at him. 

“Thank you,” I said and smiled. 

“You’ve done something different with your hair,” he observed. 

“I’ve just curled it a bit,” I said and shrugged lightly. 

“Isn’t it awfully impractical having it hanging loose when we eat?” he questioned. “You’ll risk get hair in your food.” 

My smile paled considerably at that, and my voice was tight when I said: “yes, I suppose you’re right about that.” 

“It would be a shame to have your dinner ruined because of it.” 

“Yes,” I said shortly as I tied my carefully curled hair back in a low ponytail. As I always did. 

Stephen glanced at his watch. “We better get going. We’ve booked the table for seven o’clock exactly, and I don’t want us to be late.” 

“Well, I’m ready when you are,” I said as turned my back on my reflection and looked at my husband instead. 

“Excellent,” Stephen said and smiled. 

We went downstairs once more. Lucas was already sitting in front of the television. He was undoubtedly going to watch a horror movie, and Stephen and I delivered the usual warnings: keep the door locked. Keep your cellphone switched on and don’t stay up too late. 

Lucas rolled his eyes as he answered with his usual “yeah, yeah”, and then instructed us to have a good time. 

Stephen and I left to drive to the restaurant, and as we drove towards our destination, I fought the urge to remove the rubber band and let my hair hang loose instead.

The drive to Cucina Antica were we had booked a table was only a short one, and Stephen took my hand as we walked inside the restaurant. He frowned slightly upon realizing that we were gonna sit at a table in the middle of the room and not in a secluded booth like he preferred, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead he gallantly pulled out the chair for me. 

I smiled at him as I sat down. 

He sat down opposite me and frowned slightly when he opened his menu. I saw how he squinted, and I refused the urge to shake my head. What would it take for him to finally admit that he needed glasses? He had probably been needing them for a while, I suspected. I had often considered to book an appointment at the optician for him, but every time I had ended making the same conclusion: his   
annoyance simply wouldn’t be worth it. If he needed glasses, he would have to take care of it himself. 

“What will you have, Ella?” he asked. “I think the sea scallop risotto is good.” 

I opened my own menu and took a quick glance, but I wasn’t quite fast enough. The moment a waitress appeared, Stephen ordered his dinner. “Bistro Beef Lasagna”. 

Naturally, that prompted me to quickly make up my mind. “And I’ll have the Lobster Alfredo. With extra cream sauce.” 

“And two glasses of white wine,” Stephen added. “And perhaps a candle for the table.” He nodded towards the little candle standing on the table. “I think that one would set the table alight if you tried to light it.” 

“Coming right up,” the waitress said and smiled as she walked away. 

“Thank you,” I said and returned her smile. 

As soon as the waitress was gone, Stephen turned his attention back to me and smiled. He reached across the table and took my hand. Squeezing slightly, he said: “We must get better at going out.” 

“That sounds nice,” I nodded and smiled. 

“You look lovely tonight, my dear.” 

“Thank you.” 

He frowned slightly. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am for forgetting our anniversary.” 

“It’s alright,” I assured. “You’re making up for it tonight,” 

“I should like to hope that,” he nodded. 

I gave his hand a little squeeze. We were chatting pleasantly when the waitress returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She frowned slightly in concentration as she filled the two glasses with white wine. 

“Just leave the bottle, please,” Stephen said. 

“Got it,” she smiled. She walked off and I was just about to comment on the fact that Stephen was driving tonight and therefore couldn’t have much wine, but before I got the chance to say anything, he released my hand, reached within his pocket and then presented me with a little box. 

“I thought it was better to give it to you before we start eating,” he said. 

I carefully took the little box from him and weighed it in my hand. 

“Open it,” Stephen encouraged and smiled. 

I did what he asked and pried the lid off. There, inside the little box, nestled in the velvet, was a ring. A gold ring adorned with a large, blue gemstone. The ring was heavy when I took it out of the box, and I had an intense gut feeling that the stone wasn’t sapphire. 

“Stephen...” I said quietly. 

“My way of thanking you for the past twenty one years,” Stephen said as he gently took the ring from me. “And for the next twenty one years to come,” he added as he carefully slipped the ring on my finger. I so wanted it to be nothing more than a sweet gesture, but it was impossible not to notice how he discreetly glanced around in the restaurant as he slipped the ring on my finger. He wanted the other people present in the restaurant to know. He wanted them to see that he had just presented his wife with a very expensive ring. 

“It’s very beautiful. Thank you,” I said as I leaned forward and pecked his cheek lightly. 

“A small reminder of how much you mean to me. Cheers, Ella,” he said as he raised his glass of wine. 

“Cheers,” I parroted as I raised my own glass and clinked it with his. The gemstone on the ring reflected the light slightly as I raised my hand, and I immediately noted that look of satisfaction on Stephen’s   
face. To anyone else it looked like he was simply smiling at me, but I knew my husband, and I knew that look. It usually had something to do with his company. It usually meant that he had closed a very big deal. That he had earned a large amount of money. 

I smiled back at my husband and then took a sip of the wine. Memories of the last time I had consumed alcohol flittered in my mind, but I very firmly pushed them out before they could take root and grow in my mind. Now was not the time to reminiscence. I was having dinner with my husband. We were celebrating our wedding anniversary, for god’s sake. 

“Do you remember our first date?” I asked Stephen in an attempt to distract myself from those pressing memories. 

“Yes, we went to that pizza place,” Stephen nodded. 

I frowned. “Did we? Didn’t we go out for Chinese?” 

“Oh yes, Chinese. You’re right,” Stephen said and nodded again. 

“Do you remember how it started to rain when we were walking back to campus?” I said and chuckled lightly at the memory. 

“Mmm, we had to run the rest of the way. Neither one of us had been sensible enough to bring an umbrella,” Stephen said. “And as far as I recall, you were very impractically dressed.” 

“Yes, I was wearing sandals and a dress,” I agreed. 

“A blue one,” Stephen nodded. 

I frowned slightly. “No, I think my dress was green. My sandals were blue, though.” 

“Oh yes. That’s right.” 

That’s when our food arrived, and we both dug into our meals and then talked about how delicious everything tasted. We toasted again and delved into the memories of our time in college. Stephen recalled how the walls in our first apartment had been this “dreadful green color”, and I remembered that the bathroom had been very cramped. 

“And I believe that the kitchen was awfully small as well,” Stephen remembered and took another sip of his wine. “There was barely room for two people in there.” 

“Perhaps my memory is starting to fail me, but I don’t think that you cooked much when we lived there,” I teased and chuckled. 

He made this guilty laughter. Truth was that he didn’t cook much now either. It was mostly me who were in charge of our meals. Tonight made for a nice change. It was nice to not cook for once. 

Our conversation were interrupted by blaring sound coming from Stephen’s pocket. I frowned slightly as he fished his phone out of the pocket and glanced at the screen. 

“Would you mind switching that off?” I asked gently and underneath the table, my hand curled into a fist. 

“Hmm?” Stephen glanced up at me. “Oh, of course. Yes. I’ll switch it off in a second,” he promised. “I just have to....” 

Yes. You “just have to”. That’s the problem. I quelled a sigh and turned my attention back to my food. Which was rather delicious. 

After two minutes or so, Stephen slid the phone back in his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry about that, my dear. It was an email from Dennis McLaughlin.” 

“I see,” I said noncommittally. Dennis McLaughlin was Rasmussen’s replacement, and no matter how good he was at his job, I still felt sorry for Rasmussen. He had served the company ever since the beginning. The fact that Stephen had let him go so unceremoniously was rubbing me the wrong way. 

“Cheers, my dear.” 

“Cheers, Stephen,” I said and smiled at my husband as I raised my glass. 

Stephen insisted that we celebrated our anniversary by buying some dessert, so we ended up staying later at the restaurant than what I had expected us to.

It was relatively late when we finally pulled up in front of our house. With steady hands, Stephen unlocked the door and we went inside. 

The hallway was completely quiet and dark as we discarded of our shoes and coats, and it didn’t take us long to find out that so was the rest of the house. Except for a single lamp still switched on in the living room. Lucas had followed our “orders” and had indeed gone to bed early. Very smart of him. We would be going to Ludlow tomorrow, and even though it wasn’t a particular long drive, I knew that he was still going to need all the energy he could get. And I knew that because the same thing applied for me. I would need lots of energy to endure two whole days in Allison’s company. Two whole days. I almost shook my head. This wasn’t the first time I wished that my mother-in-law and I saw eye to eye. It was at times like these I envied Delia. She had this amazing relationship with Tom’s mother. They constantly had dinner together and went out for coffee and shopped together. I could scarcely imagine going shopping with Allison. I could already hear her criticize every piece of clothing I would be interested in. 

“I’ll go upstairs,” Stephen announced. “But you’ll come to bed too, won’t you?”

“Yes, I’ll just switch off the last light down here,” I confirmed. 

He went up the stairs, and I watched as he disappeared upstairs. Once I heard him close the door to the bathroom, I did as intended and switched the light off in the sitting room. Then I returned to the hall and pressed the doorknob down once. As suspected, Stephen hadn’t locked the door. He often forgot to do that. And sometimes he simply didn’t bother to do it. This was a very safe neighborhood, he said. Nothing ever happened in Shelburne. 

But I was less keen on taking any chances. I carefully locked the front door and even pressed the doorknob three times to ensure that the door really was locked. 

Then I took one last “round” downstairs. Found a half crumpled bag that once had contained chips in the sofa, and I chuckled quietly to myself. Looks like Lucas has been indulging tonight. I couldn’t blame him. Stephen and I had indulged tonight as well. That had been quite the dessert. And tonight had been a good night. Apart from the little hiccup where Stephen had felt it necessary to check his phone. I had been slightly disappointed at that. 

And then there was the ring on my finger. I wasn’t completely sure how to feel about that either. Of course, it was a beautiful ring, but I didn’t like how Stephen had used the ring to get attention. How he not-so-subtle had glanced around to see if anyone in the restaurant was paying attention. It wasn’t tasteful. 

Quelling a sigh, I left the sitting room and went up the stairs to join my husband.

He was waiting for me when I got upstairs. I found him sitting on the bed naked, and if that wasn’t a strong enough indicator, the look he was giving me certainly was. That look had been his signal for years, and I could remember how that look once had aroused me. Had made me eager to take my clothes off for him. There had been a time where I had undressed just a little bit slower to relish in his hungry stare for longer. 

Now I found his silent staring to be annoying. Perhaps even a little demanding. I silently scolded myself for letting this taking me by surprise. Because it shouldn’t. We had been celebrating our anniversary. Of course I should have expected him to wanting to make love to me tonight. 

“Is Lucas asleep?” I asked as I unhooked the golden chain and removed it from around my neck. 

“He is.” 

“Oh. Good.” 

Maybe I fumbled more than what was strictly necessary as I unzipped my dress and then folded it and placed it on a chair. I could put it away tomorrow. Next, I took off the sheer stockings and placed them next to the dress. Then I turned around and unclasped my bra. I had been oddly foreseeing. This was one of my nicer bra’s. I freed my hair from the ponytail and felt how it fell down and brushed the middle of my shoulders. It was definitely time to get a haircut. I unceremoniously hooked my fingers in the waistband of my underwear and pushed them down my legs. I didn’t bother to place them on the chair. They would have to be washed tomorrow anyway. It wasn’t worth the trouble. I raised my hands to remove the heavy earrings I had been wearing tonight. 

“No, keep them on,” Stephen said and extended a hand out towards me. “Come here.” 

I left the earrings where they were and walked over to the bed. Stephen immediately took my hand. Caressed it for a moment. Then he brushed his thumb over the gemstone on the ring he had given me earlier tonight. 

“I knew it would look beautiful on you,” he murmured as he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it lightly. Then he placed his hands on my hips to draw me closer, and when I was only inches from him, he shuffled slightly to let me get into bed with him. 

I wiggled under the covers, and it didn’t take long before he was on top of me and kissing me. He tasted of white wine and oregano and toothpaste. I could smell the cologne he always wore. The cologne I often gave him a bottle of on his birthday. He had forgotten to shave today, I noted. His stubble was lightly scratching as he kissed his way down my body. My throat. The very top of my chest. My left breast. His mouth was on my nipple and I felt a slight murmur of arousal. He switched side. Right breast. His mouth was on my other nipple. He was lightly flicking it with his tongue. I exhaled softly at that. He trailed his kisses lower. Kissed my stomach. His lips purposefully avoiding the faded stretch marks there because he knew I didn’t like to be reminded of them. I preferred to pretend that they weren’t there. He dotted kisses all around my navel. Lingered there for a moment, and then made his way upwards again. He never went past my navel. Instead his mouth came up to meet mine. 

I willingly returned his kiss. White wine. Oregano. Toothpaste. The intense smell of cologne. It was very possible that he had put on too much tonight because he knew we were going out. 

A hand slipped down to rub between my legs. Exactly like it always did, and I moaned quietly. Exactly like I always did. He hummed in my ear and I moaned back. We rarely spoke much when we were making love. It wasn’t necessary. We already knew what the other were thinking. 

Soon I was wet and slippery between my legs, and Stephen positioned himself more firmly on top of me. His palms were placed flatly on the mattress on either side of my face, and he grunted slightly as he pushed himself inside me. I groaned too and placed my hand on his shoulder. Perhaps I wasn’t quite wet enough for this. But I didn’t say anything about it. 

It didn’t take long before we fell into that rhythm we had practiced and polished for over twenty years. Stephen sat the pace and I kept up and rocked my hips to achieve the desired level of stimulation. He murmured in my ear. Asked me if it was good. I gave the only answer I could give and told him it was good. 

My praise spurred him on, and he hitched his hips a little sharper. Pressed into me a little more firmly than before. Perhaps he had realized how long it had been since we had last made love. 

I panted slightly underneath him, and he kissed my lips once more. The kiss soon grew sloppy though, and he grunted once more. I could feel beads of sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. I thought to myself that I ought to ask him to slow down a little. Remind him that we weren’t in a hurry. But words were lost when I felt the effort of his ministrations in way that could have been even more pleasurable if he had taken his time. Instead of speaking, I moaned shakily. My hand was slipping slightly on his back. I knew what was coming. I knew that he was nearing his peak. 

I, however, was not, and once again, I murmured encouraging words to him. I hoped that I could somehow ensure that he would keep going long enough for me to join him. 

I couldn’t. 

He grasped my hand tightly. The hand that was wearing the ring. Then he grunted almost sharply, and I could feel how he emptied himself within me. 

My back arched as I did what I had done a handful of times already and faked it. At first, I had felt awful about it, but now it was becoming somewhat of a routine. A simple question of hitching my hips the right way. Squeezing around him the right way. Crying out sharply enough to make it seem authentic. 

Stephen had never once questioned it, and he didn’t tonight either. Instead he collapsed on top of me and lied there panting for a few seconds. I could feel how he grew soft and limp within me, and soon he slipped out of me and rolled off me. He pressed a warm, wet kiss to my cheek. 

“Was that good, my dear?” he asked, still panting slightly. 

“Yes,” I said and simulated being equally as breathless. 

Another warm kiss to my cheek. A soft squeeze to my hand. A slurred “I love you”, and then I watched as my husband grew limp next to me. 

It happened immediately after Stephen had fallen asleep and had started snoring. That familiar feeling of being dissatisfied and disappointed washed over me. Of course, I had every opportunity to pop into the bathroom and take care of things myself, but I felt too tired to move. So instead I rolled onto my side. Shuffled closer to the nightstand. Then I wrestled the ring off my finger and stuffed it securely into one of my bedroom drawers. I could put the ring back on before Stephen woke up tomorrow. 

I was tired, but apparently not tired enough to sleep. I didn’t know how long I lied awake and looked up at the ceiling. Maybe it was for a few minutes. 

But then again perhaps it was in fact for a few hours. I wasn’t completely sure. I had turned the alarm clock, so it was facing the wall.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“Ella!” Allison exclaimed as she released Stephen and turned her attention to me instead. 

“Allison,” I acknowledged and forced myself to smile when it became my turn to receive two kisses on each cheek. That had been Allison’s way of greeting for as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I had found it to be very sophisticated, and I had been somewhat intimidated by my mother-in-law. Now I found it to be very false, and I was definitely not intimidated by Allison anymore. 

“How are you, dear?” as she planted two dry kisses on my each of my cheeks. 

“We’re all doing fine, mother,” Stephen assured. 

Allison released me and then turned her attention to Lucas. “And there is my grandson!” she chirped, and Lucas had to endure being embraced by his overexcited grandmother. Allison was a hugger. Had always been for as long as I had known her. 

Lucas willingly hugged his grandmother, but I had seen the brief flicker of discomfort on his face. He was not a hugger. At least not anymore. I supposed it had to do with his age. At thirteen, he wasn’t terribly keen on too much physical affection, but Allison paid little attention to that as she hugged him again and then gave him his two, dry kisses on each cheek. 

While Lucas was being showered with attention by Allison, Stephen took the opportunity to wave Helen and Jeff over. Helen and Jeff were old friends of Stephen’s father, and Allison had invited them to her get-togethers for as long as I could remember. 

“Stephen. Ella,” Jeff said as he let go of his wife’s hand to shake mine. “It’s been too long.” 

“It has,” Helen said as she gave me a quick hug. 

“The company’s been busy,” Stephen said as he and Jeff exchanged a quick “man”-hug with following pats on the back. “You know how it is.” 

“Oh yes,” Helen huffed and frowned slightly. “I’m starting to feel like one of those wives who waits for her husband to come back from the war. That’s how little I see Jeff nowadays.” 

I laughed and silently prayed that the sound wasn’t as false as it imagined it to be. 

The creases on Helen’s forehead became smooth as she looked at me. “You look wonderful tonight, Ella. Is that a new dress?” 

“No, I’ve had it for a while,” I said nonchalantly. That was true. I had found the purple wrap dress at the very back of my closet. 

“Oh. Well, I’ve never seen you wear it before. It looks very nice.”

“Thank you.” 

“And what’s this?” Helen continued as she took my left hand. “That’s definitely new!” 

I should have known. Of course I should. Of course it was only a matter of time before someone spotted the ring on my left ring finger. I just hadn’t expected it to happen this soon. 

Allison had finally released her grip on Lucas, and now she was glancing between her son and the ring on my finger. “That must have cost you a fortune,” she said, and I could easily hear the underlying meaning. ‘Why on earth did you spend so much money?’

Why indeed. 

Stephen only partially answered his mother’s not too subtle accusation. He slipped an arm around my waist as he said: “Ella is entirely worth it.” 

“Twenty one years of marriage,” Helen said and finally released my hand. “Seems as though it was yesterday Jeff and I celebrated that.” 

Allison was still scowling slightly as she looked at Stephen, and I could tell that she wasn’t entirely satisfied with the way he distributed his money. 

To be completely truthful, neither was I. The ring was too much. Over the top. This was our twenty first anniversary, not our twenty fifth nor our thirtieth. I didn’t know why, but receiving this ring somehow felt wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, but odd. I should have preferred to receive it for Christmas or perhaps on my birthday. 

My birthday. Where I would turn forty three. I almost grimaced. Turning forty and forty one and then forty two had been bad enough. Turning forty three was going to be absolutely horrible. I could already imagine the panic attack I was going to have when I turned forty five. And fifty. I almost shuddered. Imagining myself as fifty years old wasn’t very pleasant at all. 

“Well, the dinner is served,” Allison announced and clapped her hands. “Come, come!” 

Everyone present followed her into the grand dining room. We were pointed to our seats, and Allison sat down by the end of the table. Next to her, there was an empty chair. The chair that once belonged to Geoffrey Stephen Benson. Stephen’s father. Alison had insisted on keeping the chair there out of respect since Geoffrey had passed away three years ago. 

Lucas was sitting next to me, and it didn’t take me long to notice how displeased with the situation he looked. Sitting through a three course dinner was not his preferred activity. 

Nor was it mine. We had only just arrived, and I already that prickling restlessness creep up on me. Perhaps because I still could feel Allison’s eyes on me. Well, perhaps not directly on me. I strongly suspected that she was looking at the ring on my finger, and I was overcome with the urge to wrestle it off my finger and tuck it away in my purse. But I had an inkling that Stephen probably had a question or two for me. I couldn’t take the ring off. It would be strange if I did. 

The first meal had just been served when Allison rose from her chair and tapped her glass elegantly with her spoon. 

Everyone present immediately turned to the Benson’s family matriarch. 

“I think we should all stand up and raise our glass and make a toast to Stephen and Ella and their twenty one years of blissful matrimony,” Allison said and smiled. 

Everyone rose from their seats. Glasses were raised, and Stephen and I were congratulated with our anniversary. 

Stephen smiled as he squeezed my hand. My left hand were the ring was placed on my ring finger. I returned the smile and did my best to smile to those who were congratulating us. 

Allison then announced that we should start eating, and so we did. Lucas wasn’t overly thrilled when Jeff soon leaned in and began asking about school. Lucas’ answers were polite, his annoyance concealed, but I knew my son, and I could tell that he was growing annoyed over Jeff’s questions. 

“Lucas is doing wonderfully in school,” I interjected and shamelessly made myself a part of their conversation. 

Jeff’s attention shifted from Lucas to me. “Well, doing good in school is important, making sure that he’s well equipped for taking over Benson Inc...” 

“Or whatever else he chooses to do,” I said boldly. “The possibilities are endless.”

Lucas shot me a look of pure gratitude, but Jeff frowned slightly as I calmly met his gaze. Before we left, I had already decided that nobody except for Stephen and I were to discuss anything that concerned how Lucas were doing in school or his future. Not even Allison. And I was prepared to politely change the subject if she tried to discuss the matter. I didn’t care what she would think of that. I was not about to expose Lucas to prying and pushing questions. 

Jeff was the first one to avert his eyes, and I felt every bit satisfied. I had won that little slanging match. 

When I looked up, I immediately noticed that Allison was looking at me. She had clearly overheard the little exchange, and she didn’t look overly pleased. 

I didn’t care. I turned my attention back to the meal in front of me. 

Lucas was looking at me as well, and he looked extremely grateful. I flashed him a little smile. Together, we could endure this evening of mindless chatter.

“Cheers, Ella,” Helen said opposite me and raised her glass.

“Cheers, Helen,” I said and flashed her a smile. Our glasses clinked together once, and I took a small sip of the white wine. Allison always had a very strict routine she insisted upon sticking to when she was hosting a get-together. White wine for the starter. Red wine for the main course, and then finally champagne for the dessert. And then of course there would be served drinks in the living room later. Drinks and cigarettes for those who wished to smoke. I knew the routine down to the very last detail, and sometimes I found that to be slightly depressing, how well I knew Allison’s routines. And the reason why I knew the routines were even more depressing. Stephen and I had never once skipped a get-together at his mother’s house. 

“I’ve heard you’ve began taking French lessons?” Helen said as she sat her glass down. 

“Yes, that’s right,” I confirmed and wondered exactly how Helen had heard that. Had Stephen told her? If so, I was more than surprised. He didn’t usually pay much attention when I spoke of “trivial” things. 

“Will you and Stephen be going to Paris then?” Helen asked and her green eyes gleamed. “Jeff and I went last spring. You should do the same. Paris is beautiful in the spring.” 

“We’ll bear that in mind,” I said politely and silently counted to ten. Yes, I had already heard so much about Jeff and Helen’s trip to Paris last spring. In fact, Helen had spoken of little else since then. She had even adopted certain French words since, and I always tried to keep my amusement at bay whenever that happened. 

Helen then proceeded to ask about how Stephen and I had celebrated our anniversary. I truthfully told her that we had gone out and had dinner at a nice restaurant, and I felt completely flat as I told her.   
Which perhaps wasn’t completely fair. Because apart from after we had gotten home, it had been a decent night. A shame it had ended in a way that had left me feeling grossly unsatisfied. I took another sip of my white wine and shifted slightly in my chair. I wanted to go home and lock myself in the studio. Preferably for a few hours. If I couldn’t voice it out loud, at least I could paint my frustration away. I really needed that right now. I should have brought my sketchbook with me. 

Another sip of the white wine. My glass was still half full. Stephen’s was not. He was clearly taking advantage of the fact that he wasn’t driving tonight. If he kept going like that, he would have to go to bed early. And leave me with his mother. 

Exactly as expected, drinks were served in the living room, and it was time to mingle. Stephen were talking business with James, and Lucas had been smart enough to sneak off. Which left me standing alone. 

But not for long. Soon Constance, another one of Allison’s friends found me and held out a glass towards me. 

“Mint Julep, Ella?” she offered. 

I flinched as I remembered the last time, I had had a Mint Julep. And exactly what that drink had led to....

“No, thank you,” I said, smiling politely as I rejected her offer. “I think I’ve had enough to drink for one night.” 

“Are you sure? They’re very good,” Constance said as she took a sip of the drink.

“I’m absolutely sure.” This wasn’t the first time I had been overwhelmed by the urge to either laugh hysterically or cleanse the air with a scream. Either would do. I felt as though I was rapidly approaching some sort of breaking point. 

Constance didn’t notice this. Of course, she didn’t. Instead she once again tried to persuade me to try the Mint Julep, and this time, I thanked her and took the drink from her. The taste was disturbingly familiar, and once again, I was transported right back to a bar with too loud music. To a warm breeze. Faint streetlight. A dusty brick wall against my back. Soft, warm lips pressing against my own. Nimble fingers resting on my cheeks. 

I downed the drink in one go and felt tempted to get another. That was when Stephen suddenly looked at me from the other end of the room. Our gazes locked, and he flashed me a little smile. I smiled back, feeling my poker face sliding into place at once, and I wondered whether I had looked like that when we had made love the other night. I knew I had smiled, but now I suddenly found myself wondering whether my poker face smile and my “faking” smile was in fact the same? That made me feel a little bit depressed too. It was still irritating me, how our anniversary celebration had ended, and it hadn’t taken me long to blame myself for it. Perhaps, if I had kept talking to him, had kept encouraging him, he would have kept going until I’ve had the chance to finish too. The more I thought of it, the more bitter I became. Because how could Stephen not have noticed that I had been faking pleasure? Why wasn’t he paying a little more attention to me and my needs? 

But telling that to your husband of twenty one years wasn’t that simple. If I opened up that can of worms, it would lead to questions, and I wasn’t sure I could handle having that conversation with him. 

I abandoned the idea of getting another drink and glanced discreetly at my watch. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very late, and I grimaced. I just wanted this night to end. I just wanted to go to bed. I was tired of looking up and seeing Allison’s steely gaze. 

But to my annoyance, I wasn’t able to fall asleep. Long after Stephen and I had retired to one of the many bedrooms in Allison’s house, I was still lying wide awake. Next to me, Stephen was fast asleep and snoring slightly. He was lying on his side, facing away from me. I could barely see the contour of him under the duvets. The bedroom was pitch black, and yet I couldn’t sleep. I felt entirely too frustrated for that to happen. And oddly enough, I wasn’t sure what I was frustrated about. Stephen? Allison? Helen and her questions? Constance and her Mint Julep? Or possibly myself? 

I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer that question just yet. The only thing I knew was that I shouldn’t count on getting any sleep if I continued like this. I needed to get out of bed and walk around for a bit.   
That usually did the trick. 

Thus, I quietly slid out of bed and shrugged a robe over my blue pajamas. Ran a comb through my hair in case I should run into someone. Not that I expected too. It was very late, and it had been hours since the party had ended. Allison was asleep in the other end of the house. The only other person I could potentially run into was Lucas, and I doubted he would be up at this hour. 

Stephen grunted slightly, and a slight creak told me that he had just rolled over and was currently taking up all the space in the bed. Perhaps I would have to wake him when I got back in order to reclaim my space in the bed. Otherwise, I would have to sleep on the floor tonight, and I had little interest in that. 

The door creaked slightly as I quietly opened it and slipped out in the long corridor. I didn’t really have a plan with this nightly outing. My only goal had been to walk around for a bit. I hadn’t exactly considered a destination. 

Soon I was walking down the large oak staircase. Through the room where we had dinner earlier tonight. Someone had left a half-full glass of red wine on the table. So I hadn’t been the only one laying low tonight. 

At least we didn’t have to see Allison for quite a while when this was over, I consoled myself as I left the dining room and ventured into the living room instead. Stephen was simply too busy with the company, and Lucas and I had never made a habit out of visiting Allison alone. 

Abandoned glasses with different drinks were standing abandoned in the living room. Including the Mint Julep I had been sipping earlier. I almost shivered when I laid eyes on it. This would be the last time I would have Mint Julep. Never again. I wrapped my robe a little tighter around myself as I aimlessly walked around in the now quiet and empty living room. The silence was almost ringing in my ears. 

Tonight had been very noisy and very long. And Allison had been hyper focused on me for most of the night. Why did I always feel like I was being weighted and measured whenever she was in the room?

Drinks wasn’t the only thing that had been left behind in the living room. On one of the little tables were a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I didn’t even hesitate before I plucked a cigarette out of the pack, placed it between thumb and index finger and then lit it. I coughed slightly as I inhaled the first time. It had been a very long time since I had last smoked. And even then, it had always been when I had been feeling stressed. 

And that was probably the reason why I was smoking right now. Because I was stressed. I scoffed slightly and narrowly avoided choking on the smoke. Perhaps stressed wasn’t the right term to use. 

Honestly, it felt more like I was coming apart in the seams. I was finally beginning to admit to myself that I didn’t feel very good, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about it. Really, what could I do about it?

I coughed again. I really shouldn’t be smoking. And I definitely shouldn’t keeping about what had happened outside the bar that evening. It wasn’t.... It wasn’t right. I was thinking about things I had no business thinking about. And I was most definitely putting too much into one, silly, drunken mistake. It hadn’t been anything special. It could have happened to anyone. Anyone could have made that mistake. 

But I wasn’t “anyone”, and I didn’t make these kind of mistakes. I had been married to Stephen for twenty one years, and not once had I cheated on him. I hadn’t even considered it. Not ever. 

I took another drag on the cigarette. I had always taken pride in being a very calm and stoic person, but now... now I barely recognized myself. Who was this slightly unhinged woman who couldn’t sleep and snuck out to smoke in the middle of the night?

It’s this house, I decided. Yes. Of course, that was it. I was acting like this because of the house and Allison. She always knew exactly how to rattle me, but we were going home tomorrow, and that would be end of it. When we got home tomorrow, Stephen would leave for Boston, I would head out for my daily run, practice my French and maybe even draw some. And everything would go back to normal. 

I took another deep drag on the cigarette. I should get back to bed. That’s what I should do. I should get back to bed and get some sleep. I was probably just overtired. 

But I didn’t move an inch. At least not right away. I kept babbing on the cigarette until there was only a stump left of it. Then I wiped it on the ashtray and left it there with all the other buds. 

The old staircase creaked slightly as I walked back upstairs, but the corridor was dark as ever. So nobody had heard my little journey downstairs. 

I quickly padded down the hallway. Stopped by Lucas’ room. He was fast asleep. I smiled a little. He looked like a little boy as he lied there in the enormous bed. Lanky teenager or not, he would never stop being my little boy. 

Stephen had moved some when I came back to our room. He wasn’t filling the entire bed anymore, and I was grateful for that. Now I didn’t have to sleep on the floor anyway. 

He grunted slightly as I slipped back in bed. “Where’ve you been?” he asked and slurred slightly. 

“I felt warm, so I went downstairs to get a glass of water,” I lied. 

“You smell of smoke,” he informed me as he aimlessly reached for my hand. 

I was quick to make things easier for him and gave his hand a soft pat. “There was still some smoke left in the living room,” I effortlessly lied. 

“Hmm,” he said, and before I knew of it, he had begun snoring again. 

I so wished that I could have done the same. But my mind refused to rest tonight. I ended up rolling onto my back with my fingers laced behind my head. I lied there next to my sleeping husband and   
stared up at the ceiling and wondered what on earth I was supposed to do with myself. How was I supposed to quell something I didn’t even know what was? How was I supposed to get better when I didn’t know exactly what was wrong with me? 

But one thing I did know: something had to happen. Something had to happen before I lost it completely. 

‘Actually, I’m far more interested in you.’

I closed my eyes and shook my head firmly once. No. Not this again. I was simply overtired, and it was very possible that I’ve had a bit too much to drink tonight as well. That was the reason why I was thinking about silly things. The only reason. 

I rolled onto my side, so I was facing away from Stephen. I felt entirely too guilty to look at my sleeping husband right now. God, what sort of monster was I? What sort of wife went out and cheated on her husband with someone twenty years younger than herself? And with a woman. 

Now I suddenly wished that I had drunk more. Because tonight was gonna be long. Perhaps it would have been easier to get through the many hours if I had been slightly drunk. 

I hoped we would be leaving early tomorrow. I wasn’t sure I could stand being in this house for longer than what was absolutely necessary. The house was driving me insane. Allison was driving me insane. I was driving myself insane. 

I really needed to go for a very long run when I got home. 

I squinted as I looked at my watch in the darkness. 2:40. Great. How was I even supposed to function as a human being tomorrow? 

The answer was simple enough. I wouldn’t. Not unless I fell asleep soon. 

I stubbornly closed my eyes. I was going to sleep right now whether I wanted to or not. 

My wish was granted. We left right after breakfast the next day. Allison kissed all three of us two times on each cheek, instructed us to come back soon and dropped a not too subtle reminder that she wanted to see her grandson more frequently. 

I found Lucas to be both smart and incredible creative when he quickly said that he was so busy with school. That’s why he couldn’t visit as often as he wanted too. 

I told Allison that it had been a “lovely party”, Stephen agreed and then Allison followed us outside and waved us off as we drove away. 

We had barely gotten home before Stephen opened his laptop, muttering something about maybe catching an early flight. As I took a shower to wash “the party” of me, he browsed the Internet, and when I got downstairs again, he announced that he had managed to find a flight to Los Angeles this afternoon. 

I hated myself for feeling relieved.

Stephen was suddenly in a hurry and disappeared upstairs to pack his things. Lucas announced that Trevor had just texted him and asked if he could hang out today. Not feeling in the mood for coming up with an exceptional reason why he couldn’t go, I said yes right away. 

It didn’t take long before I could see my son cycle down the road and disappear when he reached the corner. He was undoubtedly gonna eat dinner at Trevor’s place tonight. I would be home alone. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe being home alone was exactly what I needed right now. Proper time to sort out the house just a little. And then I would head out on my daily run. Without a podcast. I would concentrate entirely on trying to clear my head. The fresh air would do me good. And then when I got home, I would have everything sorted out. 

Possibly. 

Maybe. 

Hopefully. 

I grinded my teeth slightly. Of course things weren’t quite as bleak as they had been yesterday. I had just been sleep deprived and confused. But today I felt better. 

At least that was what I was trying to tell myself. And who knew, maybe, I would actually succeed in the end. If I tried hard enough. 

That was when Stephen came downstairs and asked me about a tie he couldn’t find. He’s navy one. Stephen had about ten different navy colored ties, and yet I somehow already knew which one he needed. 

Eager to have something else to think about, I went upstairs to assist him in finding the tie. As we searched, he apologized for having to leave this quickly. It was possible that I sounded a little too understanding when I said that it was alright, but Stephen didn’t seem to notice it. He just smiled and thanked me when I found the missing tie. 

Ironically enough, I found back to my old rhythm when Stephen had left. 

I served breakfast for my son, I packed his lunches. I went for my daily runs. I sketched. I went to my French lesson that Tuesday, and when I got home, my head was so thoroughly packed with new information’s, it was simply impossible to think of anything else. 

And that Wednesday, when I was just about to head out on my run, Delia called and announced that she was in the mood for lunch. It wasn’t a suggestion, so I had to changed my plans and skip my daily run. I didn’t actually mind that. I went upstairs and changed into something more appropriate than my running clothes. 

Twenty minutes later, she knocked on the front door, and I quickly opened the door for her. She smiled beamingly at me. 

“You survived Allison’s birthday party,” she said as she hugged me once. 

“I sure did. But it’ll kill me next year,” I quipped. 

She laughed heartedly. “Well, I can’t wait to hear everything about your mother-in-law from hell.” 

I didn’t bother correcting her. That description wasn’t actually that far off. 

Delia suddenly frowned slightly, and it didn’t take long for me to figure out why. She was looking at the ring on my left ring finger. 

“Not you too,” I sighed. Perhaps I should simply take the ring off and only wear it when Stephen was home. 

“Stephen is taking it quite seriously this year,” Delia commented and raised an eyebrow. 

“Indeed,” I said. I still wasn’t completely sure why. He normally gave me a bottle of perfume and a silk scarf, and I gave him a new tie. That had been a tradition between us for quite a while now. I still   
didn’t understand why he had felt the urge to give me an overly expensive ring this year. 

I was just about to excuse myself and go upstairs to leave the ring when Delia announced that she was “absolutely famished”. I quickly declared that so was I and followed her out of the house. I could   
stuff the ring away in a drawer when I got home. 

Because of Delia’s cramped schedule (she had plans after our lunch) we would have to make it a quick lunch, nothing too complicated, and when we made it outside, we quickly discussed where to have lunch. 

“It just have to be something quick and simple,” Delia said. “And preferably somewhere where they serve the food quickly. What about that place where we ate the last time...? Pauline’s Café and Restaurant?”

Oh, no. Oh god no. Absolutely not. But I couldn’t exactly tell her that without coming up with a really good excuse, and I couldn’t think of an excuse. So I ended up smiling and agreeing.

Delia chatted briskly on the way to the restaurant, and I did my best to answer and add to the conversation. But the truth was that I couldn’t focus on what she was saying. I was much too anxious. God, what if Bliss is at work today? How am I supposed to just sit there and smile? I didn’t even know whether I would be able to talk to her at all. Because what on earth was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to sit there and think of her as my waiter and the girl I vaguely knew from my art lessons?

I wasn’t that good of an actress, and I doubted that I could pull off such a stunt. I wasn’t good at pretending. Sooner rather than later, Delia would figure out that something was amiss, and I knew her. She wouldn’t stop until she had uncovered the mystery. And I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to tell her what had happened that night. 

“Ella? You are awfully quiet.” 

“Sorry,” I said quickly and snapped out of it. “Yesterday was sort of long.” 

Delia laughed. “I can only imagine. When we get to the restaurant, you must tell me all about it.” 

“Only if you promise to tell me everything about the holiday you and Tom are planning,” I insisted. I needed to hear about something else. Something that wasn’t related to me and my problems. 

Delia laughed. “Deal.” 

“Great.” 

“So, how did you and Stephen’s celebration go?” she asked and squinted slightly. I had told her that Stephen had forgotten the first time we were supposed to celebrate, and Delia still wasn’t overly impressed. 

“It went well,” I said. 

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” Delia immediately pointed out. 

“No-no, it was fine,” I said and tried to amend. Then I cringed slightly. If I wanted to convince Delia, “fine” probably wasn’t the right word to use. 

“Where did you go?” Delia asked interested. 

I truthfully told her that we had been on Cucina Antica where we had enjoyed both dinner and dessert. 

“And then you went home?” Delia asked. 

“Yes. Then we went home.” 

She shot me a sideway glance. “So you and Stephen continued the celebration at home?” 

“Delia...” I half warned. 

She ignored it. “And that was fine too?” 

“Delia.” I said again. 

She ignored that too. “So that’s why you look so dissatisfied.” 

I shrugged lightly, neither confirming nor denying her suspicion. 

“Explain to me why you won’t talk to him about this?” she said and narrowed her eyes accusingly at me. 

I shrugged again. “It’s not that much of a problem, really.” 

Delia scoffed. “Darling, you’re not getting properly laid. Of course it’s a problem. And a big one too.” 

“No, it’s not,” I said stubbornly. But I knew she was right. I shouldn’t be going over my grocery list when I was intimate with my husband.

Delia sighed gravely. “Why in hell’s name won’t you talk to him about this? It’s been going on for ages now.” 

For seventeen months to be precise. I didn’t tell her that. Instead I settled for offering a third shrug. 

Delia shook her head and muttered that I was stubborn. 

I laughed as I agreed with her. 

I could sense that Delia would have liked to continue that particular conversation, but to me, the subject was closed. Talking about my love life or lack of thereof always brought my spirit down, and I didn’t want to be in a bad mood when I was having lunch with Delia. 

“So? How horrible was Allison last weekend?” Delia asked. 

She said it so nonchalantly I started laughing. “Fairly horrible,” I said. “You know how it is.” 

“Was she giving Lucas a hard time?” 

“She tried,” I said and grew serious once more. “Jeff asked Lucas about school last night, and I’m fairly certain, Allison was the one who put him up to it because she knows that she won’t get anything out   
of asking him herself. The older he gets, the better Lucas gets at avoiding her stupid questions.” 

Delia chuckled slightly. “Good for him. Allison’s questions has always been ridiculous.” 

“Yes, if she had her way, Lucas would be on his way to a boarding school by now,” I said and rolled my eyes. 

“Over your dead body,” Delia said plainly. 

“Precisely.” Hell would have to freeze over before I would send Lucas off to some boarding school. I didn’t care that “boarding schools was a tradition in the Benson family”. It wasn’t a tradition in the Evans   
family, and Lucas was as much a part of my family as he was a part of Stephen’s family. Allison wouldn’t get her way. 

By the time we made it to the restaurant, my anxiety was bubbling just below the surface, and I was scared of leaving the car. I was scared of going into the restaurant and suddenly finding myself face to face with Bliss for the first time since that night. 

But I couldn’t very well sit in the car while Delia went inside to have lunch, so I took a deep and calming breath, and then I followed her inside the restaurant and did my best to smile as she talked about how famished she was. 

My heart was hammering as we waited to be guided to an empty table, and it didn’t help the matter when a distinctly youthful and perky voice said: “hi! Table for two?” 

It felt as though my heart was going to shatter against my ribs, but then I looked at the blonde, blue eyed waitress and took another deep breath. It’s not Bliss. Thank god. 

Of course the danger wasn’t over, and I kept glancing around as we sat down at a table near the window. I was so afraid that Bliss was gonna pop up sooner rather than later, and I was not ready for that. I was definitely not ready for that. 

But a moment later, the blonde waitress returned with our beverage, and Bliss still wasn’t there. 

Delia and I toasted, and still nothing happened. Bliss didn’t pop up. Bliss didn’t show up at our table. 

Still, I kept looking over the counter. Just to check. Just to make sure. 

Delia and I talked, and I told her in details why the party had been less than enjoyable. 

Another waitress arrived with our sandwiches and flashed us a big smile as she said “Bon Appetit!” with a rather rusty accent. 

Delia fawned over how good the sandwich was. I agreed with her and discreetly looked over the counter and into the kitchen once more. Still nothing. She wasn’t there. 

I breathed a sigh of relief as I finally began enjoying the food. “Cheers,” I said as I raised my glass of lemon water. 

“Cheers,” Delia smiled. “You had me worried there for a second. You looked very distracted.” 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m still having flashbacks to that birthday.” 

Delia laughed. “Well, you can forget that now. It’ll be another six months before you have to see Allison again.” 

I laughed too. “That’s true.” I took a bite of my sandwich with more enthusiasm than before. I could feel how my anxiety was starting to slowly melt away, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Once again, I   
had been overthinking. Once again, I had expected the worst. I would have to work with that. It couldn’t be healthy, constantly expecting the worst thing to happen at all times. 

I made a mental note to myself about trading my romantic novels for a couple of self-help books instead. Apparently, I needed those kinds of books now. I was officially one of those people who needed to work with themselves. 

I shook my head slightly and almost snorted. My midlife crisis was reaching another level, it would seem. I told Delia that, and she scoffed. 

“You do not have a midlife crisis, Ella,” she said firmly. 

“Oh yes, I do,” I said stubbornly. “I’ve read about a million articles about the subject. I match all the criteria.” 

Delia scowled. “Ella Benson, I ought to punch you for self-diagnosing.” 

I chuckled. “In this case, I believe that the diagnosis is correct.” 

Delia sighed gravely. “For god’s sake, Ella. You’re too young to be having a midlife crisis.” 

“Not really, I’m not,” I said. “The articles said that women typically-“ 

“I don’t care what that silly article said!” Delia interrupted with a huff. “I’m saying that you’re too young to be having a midlife crisis. You should start listening to me instead of those articles.” 

It was hard to remain serious and determined when she was scowling like that. I carefully swallowed the piece of sandwich in my mouth not to choke on it. “Alright,” I said and tried not to laugh. “Since   
you know everything.... How do I stop feeling so old?” 

Apparently, that was the complete wrong thing to say. Delia immediately threw herself into a long explanation, and she started to sound like a self-help book when she firmly declared that I was a “vibrant and strong woman”.

My façade completely slipped, and I started laughing. And after a moment or so, did Delia. She threw her sandwich onto her plate and then we toasted to “having a midlife crisis”. 

“Have you considered taking a vacation?” Delia asked when we had sobered up enough to continue the conversation. 

“Stephen was talking about maybe going to Madrid in the winter,” I answered. 

“Not what I meant,” Delia said and shook her head. “Have you considered taking a vacation?” 

I blinked. “Alone? Without Stephen and Lucas?” 

“Yes,” Delia said and shrugged. “Perhaps it would be good for you.” 

“Where would I go?” I thought aloud. 

“Wherever you’d want to go. That’s the fine thing about going on holiday alone,” Delia said and winked at me. 

I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine going on vacation alone. It wouldn’t be right. And Stephen would most likely find it odd if I went on vacation alone. 

After we’ve had lunch, I offered to give Delia a ride to her destination, but she smilingly rejected that. She claimed that the walk and fresh air would be good for her, so outside the restaurant we parted ways. She hugged me and reminded me to call her later this week. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” she half warned. 

“I won’t,” I promised. “But I can’t call you tomorrow, though. I have my French lesson tomorrow." 

“Ah, Oui,” Delia teased sweetly. “Perhaps you should go to France.” 

“Very funny.” 

“Quite the contrary. I was actually being serious,” Delia said. Then she glanced at her watch and sighed. “And now I really must be off. But I will talk to you soon, alright?” 

“Alright. See you later, Delia.” 

She hugged me once more, and then she briskly began walking in the other direction. 

I turned around and walked towards my car. Perhaps I would go for a drive before actually driving home. I didn’t drive around very often. I always had a particular destination in mind. Perhaps I should change that. Perhaps I should incorporate that into my routine. Maybe I wasn’t quite ready to go on vacation alone but driving around in the area was something else. I could do that. 

I hummed absentmindedly to myself as I got into the car. I adjusted the rear-view mirror, but I didn’t switch on the engine just yet. I didn’t just sit in my car very often either. I always drove off right away. 

I leaned back in the seat. I couldn’t really see the point with just sitting in the car, to be honest. What was I supposed to do? Listen to music? No. There was never anything good playing anyway. The beat were always too loud, and the words being sung too crass. 

My gaze wandered to the glovebox and the newly acquired pack of cigarettes I knew were hidden inside the glovebox. I had been stupid and had bought a pack of cigarettes on my way home from my French lesson the other day. I knew it was a mistake. I knew that starting to smoke again was beyond stupid, and I knew that my son would be awfully disappointed, but the problem was that stupid cigarette I had smoked at Allison’s party. It had reminded me of why I once had enjoyed to smoke. How relieving smoking was. How nice it was to just sit and enjoy a cigarette for a moment. Lucas was probably gonna kill me if he found out that I had started to smoke again, but it wasn’t like that. I hadn’t started smoking again. Not really. I just liked a cigarette once in a while. That was all. There was really no reason for him to get angry should he find out. 

But he wasn’t gonna find out. I would make sure of that. I would make sure that that pack of cigarette never left the glovebox. No, I would keep them here. As a little secret. A dirty little secret. 

I wrinkled my nose slightly. No. Considering the secret I was already keeping, perhaps “dirty” was the wrong word to use for this. I would have to rethink that one and come up with something better. 

With a sigh, I opened the glove box and reached for the pack of cigarettes. Wait, do I have a lighter in the glovebox? If I don’t, I have a problem. Oh god, please let there be a lighter in the glovebox. I was quite prepared to commit murder if there wasn’t a lighter stuffed into the glovebox. 

It quickly turned out that there wasn’t a lighter in the glovebox, and I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten. Slowly. Perfect. Alright. Perhaps there’s one in my purse then. I actually vaguely remembered slipping a lighter into my purse a few days ago, and I quickly began rummaging through my purse. No lighter here, no lighter there. I was beginning to get slightly frustrated. I clenched my jaw in annoyance. God, where is it? I could have sworn I put it into the big room. Apparently not. If I clenched my jaw tighter, there was a fair chance it would remain locked in that position forever. My frustration was growing my the second. I really needed a cigarette right now. I had been so stressed. I deserved a cigarette. I craved a cigarette. And now that I couldn’t find them, I was beginning to get a stronger and stronger urge to drop a few “British curse words”. In fact a few well-chosen British curse words would be more than appropriate right now. Perhaps it’s in one of the smaller rooms, then? Along with the housekey. Yes. Didn’t I feel it there earlier when I locked the door? I think I did. I’m actually fairly sure that it is-

Knock-knock-knock!

“Bloody hell!” I shrieked and dropped the pack of cigarettes onto the car floor with a thud. I saw it land somewhere underneath the passenger’s seat, and I briefly wondered how I was supposed to retrieve it again. Reaching underneath the seat was so difficult. I would have to wiggle onto the car floor to get it. That wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do. I sighed slightly. This was of course my own fault for not paying attention to what was happening around me. Perhaps if I bothered to look up once in a while instead of being so distracted all the time, I silently scolded myself.

I had been lost in my own thoughts, and I hadn’t exactly expected anyone to suddenly knock on the car window. Really, I had to get better at looking up instead of focusing on my own things. I clicked my tongue in disapproval over myself. At least this would teach me the hard way. 

I looked up to see who it was that had decided that sneaking up on me was the right approach, and then my mouth went quite dry when I realized who the “knocker” was. There she was, standing right by my car, wearing a denim skirt and a tanktop, a flowery scarf around her hair, and that little nametag of hers. That damned little nametag of hers.

Bliss........


	15. Chapter Fifteen

It felt as though my heart detached from the rest of me and fell right into the pit of my stomach. I had really thought that I had dodged a bullet. I had really thought that I had made it out of the diner without running into her. 

But no, apparently not. Because there she was. God, why? And why was I so happy to see her? I shouldn’t be so happy to see her. Obviously, I was horrified at seeing her, but there was a part of me that was happy to see her as well. 

I swallowed something as I looked at her. She had stopped tapping on the window, but she was still looking at me, and I quickly realized that rolling the window down wouldn’t be enough. No, I would have to get out of the car and talk to her. 

Perhaps I was a coward, but I wasn’t that big of a coward that I considered to just drive away. 

I swallowed something again as I unbuckled my seatbelt and then opened the car door. Soon I was standing next to her. 

“Hello,” I said and noted that her yellow bug was standing parked not too far from my own car. It would appear that she had arrived just as I had been leaving. That was how our paths had crossed this time. 

“’Hello?’” Bliss echoed and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’ve been a complete no show for what, three weeks, and all you have to say is hello?” 

I settled for a shrug. 

“Why haven’t you come to the lessons?” she continued almost accusingly. 

“I’ve been sick.”

“Bull.” Bliss said matter of factly. 

“I’ve been away for a while.” 

“To the moon?” Bliss asked a bit sardonically.

“And I’ve started to study French,” I said pathetically.

“Right.” Bliss said plainly. 

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “I am studying French.” 

“Yeah, alright, but I still think it sounds like a crappy excuse. All of them.” Bliss said firmly. 

“I don’t think that those art classes were such a good idea,” I said, once again completely pathetically. 

“Because you’ve finally figured out that you’re actually too talented and should be drawing on a professional basis, or because of me?” 

“I don’t think I should be drawing on a professional basis,” I said halfheartedly and avoided the question. 

Bliss shook her head. “Alright, can we cut the crap, please?” 

“Bliss-“ 

“Are you angry with me?” she interrupted and looked at me with her big, coffee colored eyes. “Is that it?” 

“No,” I said firmly. “Of course I’m not angry with you.” 

“Could have fooled me.” 

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m angry with myself. And embarrassed too, I suppose.” 

“Why?” Bliss asked and tapped a sandal clad foot against the pavement once. She was wearing lilac nail polish today. 

“Well, because of... Because of what...” I couldn’t even finish the sentence and had to settle for a headshake. 

“We kissed,” Bliss said plainly and shrugged. “And it was nice.” 

“Don’t say that,” I said quickly. 

“Why?” she asked again and folded her arms across her chest. 

Because I don’t want it to have been nice. I don’t want her to think it was nice. She can’t think it was nice. I won’t accept it. “Because what happened wasn’t... right,” I said and tried my utmost to sound certain. “It was a mistake. I’ve obviously send you mixed signals, and I’m really sorry about that.” 

“’Mixed signals?’” Bliss echoed and smiled ever so slightly. “Ella, I kissed you. Not the other way around.” 

“Yes, well,” I said and tried not to flinch at the word “kissed”. “But I participated in it, and I’m.... Embarrassed about it. I’ve let you on.” 

“No, you didn’t,” Bliss said and shook her head. 

“It shouldn’t have happened,” I said. 

She raised an eyebrow. “You really mean that?” 

The conversation were beginning to head in a certain direction. A direction I didn’t like one bit. “We were drunk,” I said firmly. “I suppose that explains some of it, but nevertheless-“ 

“No, there’s nothing like a bit of liquid courage to help things along,” Bliss interrupted and shifted once more. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I know I was drunk that night,” she said calmly and flicked a dark curl away from her face. “But I meant what I said, Ella. I really like-“

“No,” I firmly interrupted and shook my head. “No, you cannot say things like that, Bliss.” 

“And why not?” 

“Because I’m not-“ I licked my dry lips slightly. “I’m married, Bliss.” I wiggled my ring finger slightly and immediately felt silly for doing so. “I... I have been married for a very long time now, so I can’t...” I changed my mind and rephrased the sentence: “I love my husband.”

“Right,” she said and raised an eyebrow as though she wasn’t buying it. 

Damn it, I silently cursed. I shouldn’t have said that. That wasn’t what I had intended. I had to steer this conversation back on track. I couldn’t let her think that it had just been an automatic comeback. I   
felt tempted to throw in a few British curse words.

“I’m sorry,” I said hastily and struggled to keep track of the conversation. “I’m sorry for what happened that night. I don’t normally-“ I regretted it immediately. You’re making excuses. I quickly tried again: “I know I was drunk but that isn’t an excuse, and I really am sorry if I’ve said or done something that made you think that I somehow-“ 

“You didn’t,” Bliss said and smiled a little. “I suppose I just saw an opportunity and went for it. I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize,” I said and shook my head as I smiled a little. “It’s alright.”

“You should come back to the lessons,” Bliss said, and her voice was soft now. Almost too soft. I wasn’t completely sure I liked that.

“We miss you,” Bliss continued. “All of us. Even Griselda. She said, and I quote: ‘there’s always a quitter on the team, but I hadn’t thought it would be Ella. That girl had some real talent.’”

“You’re making this up,” I said and shook my head. 

“Nope,” Bliss said and smiled widely. “I’m telling the truth. Scouts honor.” 

“I don’t know...” I said and shifted slightly. “I’m not sure coming back would be such a good-“ 

“You should come back, Ella,” Bliss interrupted. “You really, really should. If you stayed away because you’re embarrassed....” she shook her head again. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, alright?” 

“It was just a mistake,” I said, now sounding surer. 

“Yeah. Right. Just a mistake,” Bliss repeated and smiled again. But her gaze flickered slightly. 

“You’ll meet someone soon enough,” I said slightly and tried to keep my voice light and friendly. “Someone who’s more... appropriate.” 

“Yeah. Right.” 

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I should probably...” 

“Are you gonna come back to the art lessons then?” Bliss asked. 

“I’ll... I’ll consider it,” I said. That was the best I could do for right now. I was a grown woman. I couldn’t exactly tell her that because of what had happened, I now found it to be incredibly awkward to sketch her naked body. Thanks to my silly blunder, I no longer felt very comfortable with drawing her. 

“Please?” Bliss said. “Say you’ll come back. You can’t let that amount of talent waste away.” 

“I’m still drawing at home.” 

She ignored that. “Come back. As you said, we were drunk, right? It was just something that happened. Just a minor.... thing.” 

“A mistake,” I added and nodded once. 

Bliss’ smile grew a bit tighter. “You really like that word, don’t you?” 

I narrowed my eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I- nothing. Never mind,” Bliss said hastily, but I immediately noted how the mood between us had changed slightly. But before I could do anything about it, Bliss continued: “just say you’ll come back, and   
I won’t bother you again. I promise.” 

“You’re not bothering me,” I said quickly. It was an automatic response, but it was nevertheless true. And I realized that I was being ridiculous. We were both adults, for god’s sake, the idea that I was avoiding doing something I loved over one little mistake was stupid. 

“Alright,” I said after a few seconds. “I’ll come back. If there isn’t someone else who has booked-“ 

“There isn’t,” Bliss eagerly finished the sentence. “Griselda is keeping the spot open for you.”

“Alright. Then I suppose I’ll come back.” 

“Great,” Bliss said and flashed me a smile. 

This was probably where I should have grasped the opportunity to excuse myself and then take off. But instead I kept looking at her. 

Suddenly, there were so many things I wanted to say to her. I wanted to apologize once more. I wanted to tell her that I hoped she would soon find someone. Someone that was young and single and more suitable for her. I wanted to remind her that she wasn’t allowed to say that the kiss had been “nice”. 

But it was nice, a little annoying voice in the back of my head insisted. I could claim the opposite until I was blue in the face, but I couldn’t run from the first instinctive feeling that had rushed through me and flooded my body when Bliss had kissed me. And that feeling had been joy. Complete and unbridled joy. I had been exhilarated, and-

NO. I was not allowed to dwell on the memories. I was not allowed to let that little voice in the back of my mind take over. It was a mistake. Just a drunken mistake. Bliss hadn’t... Bliss hadn’t chosen me specifically. It was just a simple case of “wrong place, wrong time.” Nothing more than that. 

I shifted uneasily on my feet, fiddled slightly with the newly acquired ring on my finger, looked down at Bliss’ hands (her nail polish was bright green) looked back up to meet her eyes and wondered why I was still standing here when I should be on my way. 

Why was I still standing here and insisting on meeting Bliss’ gaze? Why was I allowing myself to keep staring into her coffee colored eyes? Why was I lingering when I shouldn’t? And why was my body acting this way? I shouldn’t feel this nervous or twitchy. It didn’t make sense. I had explained the situation to Bliss. There was absolutely nothing to be nervous about. It was ridiculous, really. 

“Ella?” Bliss asked so softly I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. 

But at the same time, her voice made me snap out of it and brought me back to reality. “I should probably...” I said and gestured half-heartedly to my car. 

“Yeah,” Bliss said, and now it was her turn to shift slightly on her feet. 

“I’ll... I’ll see you at the next lesson,” I said and silently cursed how uncertain my voice sounded. 

“Yeah,” Bliss said again. She was still looking into my eyes, and I knew that I had to leave, otherwise....

Otherwise, WHAT, Ella? Otherwise what?

The little voice in the back of my mind wasn’t very helpful. 

“Bye,” I muttered quickly and turned around. 

“See ya.” 

I quickly opened the car door, climbed onto the driver’s seat and then closed the door as quietly as I could. Took a moment to do what I normally did before driving. Readjusted the rear-view mirror. 

Found my phone in my purse and pretended to check nonexistent messages. But in reality, I was keeping an eye on Bliss, and I carefully waited until she had turned around and walked into the restaurant to start her shift. 

As soon as she was gone, I reached underneath the seat and found the lost pack of cigarettes. Now seemed like a very good time to have a cigarette. Or two. 

I ended up smoking three in a row. And afterwards I felt both guilty and slightly nauseous, but I quickly decided that I deserved it. 

It was only fitting. 

I didn’t sleep well that night. 

In fact, I didn’t sleep at all. Instead I ended up giving up at four fifteen and wandering back downstairs where I went out on the porch and smoked a cigarette. Another cigarette. I’ll quit after this one, I promised myself. 

I had been cowardly enough to genuinely hope that I would never run into Bliss again, but things didn’t quite work that way. She had found me, and I wasn’t completely sure I was satisfied with the outcome of our conversation. Something had been off. I had been off. I had stared at her. Instead of taking off as quickly as possible, I had acted like a fool and stared at her. 

And now I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking too much. Of bright green and lilac nail polish, and I felt absolutely horrible about it. My thoughts had no business wandering in all sorts of directions. It wasn’t...... It wasn’t right. That was the word I had used when I spoke to Bliss, and it certainly seemed fitting right now.

I took another drag on the cigarette and silently cursed myself. One drunken mishap. One drunken mistake, and here I was, questioning everything. 

Mistake. You really like that word, don’t you? 

I sighed gravely. What will it take? I silently wondered. What would it take to get Bliss Edwards out of my head? And what was she even doing there? She had no business being there. 

Of course it was my fault. I had let her in. I was so deep in my midlife crisis I no longer were able to decipher what was right and what was wrong. 

But this was wrong. This was most definitely wrong. 

Another drag on the cigarette. Perhaps Delia had been right. Perhaps I should go on a trip. Without Stephen. Without Lucas. Just me. Perhaps I could go to London. Or Cheshire. There was some beautiful countryside there. It would be the perfect place to think. I could bring my sketchbook and pencils. I could spend the weeks drawing and taking long walks, and when I returned to Shelburne, I would have sorted everything out. I imagined how I would find back to the old Ella while I was away, and when I came back, everything would be exactly like it always had been. 

Yes, perhaps I should go on a trip. I took another drag on the cigarette. Soon it would be nothing more than a stump between my fingers. I knew that Stephen would find my departure strange, and he would most likely ask me why I was leaving.

What was I supposed to tell him? The truth? That I had made a drunken mistake and now was horribly confused because of it? No. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t jeopardize everything because of a stupid, drunken mistake. I just couldn’t. 

Absentmindedly, I wandered over to the sink and poured water over the remains of the cigarette. Then I dumped the bud in the rubbish bin. 

But if I chose to go on a trip, wasn’t that the same as running away?

“Mum?” 

My head whipped up, and I quickly turned around. 

Lucas was standing behind me, wearing his checkered pajamas and rubbing his eyes. His dark blonde hair was sticking out in all directions. He had probably tossed and turned. He always did that at night.   
Sometimes the duvets were on the floor in the morning. And sometimes he was on the floor in the morning. I still didn’t quite understand how he could sleep through falling off the bed during the night. 

“Why are you u-uuuup?” he asked and failed utterly at quelling a massive yawn.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said truthfully. 

“Oh.” He frowned slightly as he looked at me. “Are you sick? You look a little pale?” 

“No, of course I’m not sick. I’m perfectly fine.” Liar. 

He squinted slightly. Most likely because I had answered too fast. Again.

“Why are you up?” I asked hastily and silently cursed myself. I had to stop talking so fast. 

“I heard someone trample around downstairs. I thought it was a burglar.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry about that, honey.” 

“Yeah, I was really scared,” Lucas said and grinned slightly. “Are you gonna make me hot cocoa to make sure I won’t have any nightmares tonight?” 

“Such a manipulator,” I said and tried to scold. I ended up chuckling instead. 

“Thanks,” Lucas teased. “Soooo? Cocoa?” 

I considered it for a second. I supposed I could make some cocoa. Now that I was up and about anyway. 

“One hot cocoa coming up,” I said as I swiftly found the casserole in the cabinet next to the stove. 

“Sweet!” Lucas grinned. 

I laughed quietly. Sometimes I had no idea where he got all his expressions from. 

I quickly whipped out the ingredients for cocoa, and Lucas and I chatted cozily while I stirred the mixture in the casserole. 

“Can I have a cookie too?” Lucas asked innocently. 

“Don’t push it, Lucas,” I warned and pointed at him with the large spoon I was using to stir the mixture. 

“It was just a suggestion,” Lucas said and shrugged lightly. 

“Yes. And a bad suggestion. If you feel peckish, you can have a carrot.” 

“Yuck,” Lucas said plainly. 

“Don’t “yuck” the food, Lucas,” I said patiently as I poured the cocoa up in a cup for him. 

“So whipped cream is out of the question, right?” he asked after the first sip. 

“Yes. Absolutely.” 

Lucas snickered as he took another mouthful of cocoa. “This is really good, mom.” 

“Good. I’m glad you like it,” I smiled. 

He took another mouthful, swallowed and then sniffed into the air. “Why does it smell of smoke down here?” 

“I think our neighbor has been burning some garden rubbish today,” I lied and congratulated myself with sounding completely steady and dismissive. And definitely not like I was making it up as I went.

“Oh. Right. That makes sense.” 

“Mmm,” I hummed and poured myself a cup of cocoa. It was very possible that I needed to calm my nerves too. 

Soon we were sitting by the kitchen table, sipping our cocoa and chatting about everything and nothing. Lucas managed to mention a classmate’s name twice. Fiona. And I was immediately interested.   
Was this my thirteen year olds first crush? I cleverly tried to “trick” him into revealing a bit more, but he clammed up like an oyster and buried his nose in his cup of cocoa. But the tips of his ears turned red in that revealing way, and I chuckled quietly into my own cup of cocoa. Lucas’ first crush. I wasn’t completely sure whether I should really be amused or alarmed. Wasn’t this just another sign that time was going way too fast? 

“Do you miss dad?” Lucas suddenly asked.

“Yes, of course I do,” I said, taken completely by surprise. “I always miss your dad when he’s away. What brought this on?” 

Lucas shrugged. “You’ve just looked a bit.... bummed lately.” 

“I have?” I said and frowned slightly. “Well, I think it’s been because of your grandmother’s birthday party. But don’t tell your dad that.” 

Lucas laughed. “I won’t,” he promised. 

I laughed too, but I felt immensely guilty. Lucas had sensed it. Had sensed that I wasn’t myself. He had noticed that I looked “bummed”. 

I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t allow my inner turmoil to be so visible, my son could see what was going on. I had to be better than this. I had to conceal my feelings. But the problem was that I wasn’t entirely sure how to do that, because I didn’t fully know what these feelings were. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. I took an extra large sip of my cocoa.

“Your dad’s been talking about maybe taking a trip to Madrid this winter,” I said. “What would you think of that?” 

“Sounds cool,” Lucas grinned. “Does it mean that I can skip school?” 

“No,” I huffed and rolled my eyes. “If we’re going it’ll be during the holiday.” 

“Bummer,” Lucas said plainly. 

I chuckled quietly and ignored my black and guilty conscience. 

After another cup of cocoa, I send Lucas off to bed, ignoring his claims that he easily could stay up all night. 

“Goodnight, honey,” I said firmly. 

“Goodnight, mum,” he parroted as he rose from his seat. He turned around and went towards the stairs, but he paused in the doorway and turned around to look at me again. “Mum?” 

“Yes, sweetie?” I said absentmindedly as I brought our cups over to the sink to clean them.

“Are you gonna go to bed too?” 

I turned my head to look at him. “Yes, of course I am.” 

“Good. Because you look sorta tired,” he said. 

“I’ll go to bed in a minute,” I promised. I knew that he hadn’t said it in a negative way, he had said it out of concern, and I didn’t want him to be worried. I’d rather bent myself backwards before that   
happened. 

“Okay. Sleep well, mom.” 

“You too, honey. Don’t look at your phone, and don’t read comics instead of sleeping,” I reminded him. 

He rolled his eyes and immediately looked a bit more like himself. “Roger that.” 

I chuckled quietly as he scampered upstairs. 

I had promised him to go to bed. And I would. In a moment. I just had to clean up after our late night chat first. So I did. I mechanically wiped a cloth over the stove and then found another cloth to wipe   
the table with. Then I washed our two cups in the sink. Twice. And why exactly? We had a dishwasher. Why was I purposefully dawdling? Was the thought of going to bed really that horrible? 

Yes, probably. 

The pack of cigarette suddenly felt heavy and tempting in my bathrobe pocket, and for a moment, I considered to quickly smoke another cigarette, but then I remembered that I couldn’t actually do that and became irritated with myself. No matter how dreadful things were, it still wasn’t an excuse to smoke. I had to... I had to be better than this. 

And in the end, I ran out of excuses and went upstairs. I shrugged my robe off and carefully stashed the pack of cigarettes away in my bedside drawer. No one would notice them there. 

Then I slipped back in bed and stubbornly closed my eyes. 

Nothing happened. 

I could always start to count sheep’s, but I had an inkling that that wouldn’t work either. No, I would just have to accept that tonight was gonna be a sleepless night. Perhaps I could take a quick powernap   
tomorrow. That would definitely be required.

When Tuesday came, I had considered to cancel many, many times. I had clicked on the art class’ cancellation police more times than I could remember, but then I had immediately felt stupid. Surely, I wasn’t that much of a coward, was I? 

In the end I had made a compromise with myself. I would go to today’s lesson, and if I felt uncomfortable in anyway, I would send Griselda an email when I got home and let her know that today had been my last art lesson. That was a fairly sensible compromise, wasn’t it? 

Perhaps not, but it was how things were gonna be. 

At breakfast, I nonchalantly told Lucas that I was going back to the art class today, and to my utmost surprise, he was delighted. Delighted. I had no idea that he supported my hobby as much as he did. 

“You should open an art gallery and start selling your paintings,” Lucas said as we were having breakfast. 

I snickered into my coffee. “Thank you, honey, but I don’t think I’m good enough for that. Drawing is just a hobby. 

“Right. But a good one,” he said. “Does that mean you’re gonna quit French?” 

“No, of course not,” I said immediately. “I’ve already paid for ten lessons. I can’t let that go to waste.” 

“Why did you stop going to the art lessons?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“Well, I.... I wasn’t sure I could make it with the French lessons and all,” I pathetically lied. “But now I’ve found out that it’s not a problem.” 

“That’s good,” Lucas said and emptied his glass of orange juice. “Anyway, I better go before the bus comes. I don’t wanna be late.” 

“Give my best to Fiona,” I couldn’t resist to tease. 

“Who’s Fiona?” Lucas asked completely seriously. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, mum.” 

“No, of course you don’t,” I laughed and took another sip of my coffee. 

“Bye,” he said, but now he didn’t sound quite as nonchalant anymore. 

“Bye, honey. Have a good day at school. Eat your carrots. If you throw them out, I will find out about it.” 

Lucas left the kitchen, grumbling something under his breath about child abuse, and I laughed heartedly as I emptied my cup of coffee and then cleared the table. Now I had to take a shower and get ready for today’s lesson. 

As I went upstairs, I debated what to do with my hair. Should I tie it back or let it hang loose? I was tempted to go with the second option, but perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea after all. Perhaps it was “safer” to tie it back. Yes. I would do that. I would definitely do that. 

When I reached the bathroom, I was angry at myself for worrying about my hair.

When I arrived at my destination and went inside, I didn’t even get the chance to set my purse down before I heard the word “brittie!” being exclaimed, and then I was engulfed in a hug and so profusely patted on the back, I thought that Gus was trying to perform the Heimlich method on me. 

“Hello, Gus,” I snickered as he released me again.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. 

“Busy?” I offered and noted how much it sounded like a bad excuse. 

“And what could be more important than this?” he asked and gestured to the many brushes and pencils lying on the table. 

Good question. “Real life got in the way for a moment, but now I’m back and ready to draw,” I assured him. 

He smiled. “Well, it’s good to have you back. You had us worried for a moment.” 

I settled for flashing him a smile and gave his arm a light pat as I walked over to my chair and table. I sat down and found my sketchbook and pencil, so I was ready. 

Gus and Alexandra both followed me down to my table and all three of us were chatting briskly when the door opened, and Griselda Abbott cleared her throat. 

“Good afternoon, painters,” she said briskly. 

“Good afternoon, Griselda,” all of us parroted. 

She looked at us over the top of her glasses. Then she flashed me a smile. “Well, well. Welcome back, Mrs. Benson.” 

“Thank you,” I said and returned her smile. 

“I could make a long speech about how the class has been empty without you, but instead of wasting time with that, I think we’ll get started,” Griselda continued. 

I was beyond grateful for that. I didn’t need a long speech, nor did I want to be the center of attention. 

“So, everyone, please find your sketchbook and pencils,” Griselda said and left the room once more. 

She was only gone for a moment or so, and when she came back, she was carrying a chair. And Bliss was trailing behind her. Bliss wearing the usual white robe.

I took the opportunity to find a blank page in my sketchbook, but sooner rather than later, I had to look up, and when I did, it was impossible to miss the smile Bliss was flashing me. I automatically smiled back and then looked down at the blank page in my sketchbook again. 

“Enough chitchat for today,” Griselda as she claimed the class’ attention again. “All of you know we’ve only got two hours on our hands, so I suggest we get started instead of wasting time with talking.” 

There was a few snickers at that. Especially Gus seemed to find Griselda’s attitude amusing. 

Bliss took off her robe and sat down on the chair. She lightly rested her right ankle on top of the left one, but otherwise she did nothing to cross her legs. She placed her hands in her lap and straightened   
her back. She tipped her chin up so we could see her face properly. For once, she had clipped her hair back with a yellow hairclip. 

The usual, concentrated silence fell over the room as everyone started to sketch. I heard the familiar sound of pencils scratching against paper, and I smiled as I brought my own pencil down to begin my work. Oh, how I had missed this. I had missed the concentrated silence and the sound of pencils scratching against paper. Now it seemed silly that I had stayed away for three weeks. I would never do that   
again. I would never deny myself this feeling again. 

The first few strokes came easily to me. The curve of her body was so easily outlined, my pencil had no problem with recognizing the familiar shape of her. Her legs were easily sketched, as was her arms, but when I started to sketch her face and had to add some detail to it, I had to look up. 

And that was when I noticed it. 

Bliss wasn’t staring into nothingness today. She didn’t have that slightly aloof look on her face today. Instead she was looking directly at me. 

The pencil slipped slightly between my fingers, and I only managed to hold on to it by some miracle. What the hell was she doing? Why was she staring at me? She shouldn’t be staring at me. And I shouldn’t be returning her stare. And I definitely shouldn’t notice the goosebumps on her arms either. Why is she having goosebumps? It’s not cold in here. No, the room was warm. In fact it was very warm. I shifted some on my chair and forced myself to look down at my sketchbook again. 

But I couldn’t draw her face without having to look up, and when I did, she was always looking at me. It felt as though her gaze was penetrating me. She was... She was looking right through me. 

I swallowed a little too audible for it to be subtle and looked down at my sketchbook again. I knew that I should be angry about this. I had every right to be angry about this. Because what she was doing wasn’t fair. She had no right to look at me like that. 

Once again, I had no choice but to look up at her. But instead of doing a quick scan of her face and then resuming my work, I kept looking at her. She met my gaze without any type of hesitation. 

Was this the moment where I threw my sketchbook and pencil into my bag and made a run for it? Was this the moment where I pretended that there was some sort of emergency and I had to leave? 

No. I couldn’t do that. If I left now, I would cause a scene. Gus and Alexandra and the other would wonder what was going on. 

But after today, I was done. That was final. I would never come back again. 

I forced myself to look down and rubbed my arm for a moment. I was getting goosebumps too, and all thoughts of concentration had been abandoned as I sloppily sketched Bliss’ lips. Those lips that had touched mine not too long ago. Warm hands cupping my cheeks, a dusty brick wall against my back, and....

No. I took a deep breath. What the hell was the matter with me. I couldn’t think like that. And I certainly couldn’t present this drawing for Griselda. It looked horrible. I had to do better than this. 

I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to look up at her in order to do better, and I felt every bit afraid of what would meet my eyes as I looked up. 

Bliss was still looking at me. Her dark gaze almost burning me. The memories of our kiss flashed before my inner eye, and suddenly I imagined how it would have been to wrap my arms around her. To tangle my fingers into that explosion of curls. How it would have felt to press my palm against her lower back and feel how warm she was. Because I already knew she was warm. How it would have felt to crush our bodies together, to feel her being pressed against me. I noted how she took a shuddering breath, and the movement made her breasts rise and then fall. She was shifting on her chair. 

“Please keep still!” Griselda barked from the back of the room, and I dropped my pencil in sheer surprise. It landed on the floor with a too loud clatter, and I could feel a wave of heat rising in my cheeks. 

But as I bent down to retrieve it, I could feel something else. Something that hadn’t happened in a long while and absolutely should not happen right now. It couldn’t happen right now. I wouldn’t allow it. 

But I couldn’t run from the way my nipples tightened within my bra and the muscles between my legs tightened. I felt completely lightheaded as I sat down on my chair once more. I was getting aroused. I was getting aroused from just looking at her. I- no, this cannot be. This never happened. I didn’t get aroused without any type of stimulation. I needed touch and closeness in order to feel like this. I had always claimed that I couldn’t get aroused if I weren’t touched at the same time. 

I took a deep breath and noticed how my breath had become somewhat ragged. What was happening to me? I wasn’t sure I could even finish this lesson. 

But at the same time, I knew full well that I couldn’t just sit here and stare while the rest of the class sketched. I had to pretend that everything was fine. That I was fine. 

So I did the only thing I could do and brought one hand up. To everyone else, it looked like I was simply adjusting my scarf a little, but I was actually pulling it down to assure it was covering my nipples which were now two hard points against my silk blouse. 

Once that was taken care of, I forced myself to look up at her once more. I still needed to sketch her nose and eyes and her body was still half-done. 

Bliss was still looking at me, and suddenly I felt enraged as I met her eyes, because how dared she do this? How dared she put me through this when she knew that I couldn’t....

I clenched my jaw and ignored the faint, high-pitched sound in my ear the movement brought with it, and then I brought my pencil down and continued my work. 

It was torture. 

My normally so secure and steady pencil quivered on the paper as I sketched the rest of her face, and the muscles between my legs twitched as I drew the shimmering gemstone in her belly button. 

Storming out of the room still felt ever so tempting. I could make an excuse. Say that I had received a text or something like that. 

By the time I sketched the smooth, groomed perfection between her thighs, my throat was completely dry, and I wasn’t completely sure whether I wanted to die or cry or just scream. The pencil quivered between my fingers again, and I felt something twitch once more. My nipples were almost aching by now, and every rough brush of fabric against them felt like torture. 

Breathe, Ella. In through your nose and out through your mouth, I silently instructed myself. Somehow, I had to maintain my calm façade. Somehow, I had to keep drawing and pretend that everything was fine. I couldn’t let anyone know what was going on inside my head. I couldn’t let anyone see the inner turmoil. 

Bliss shifted on her chair again, and however hard I tried not to think of the reason, I still wondered. Is she feeling what I’m feeling? I crossed my legs firmly under the table, and perhaps that was the wrong thing to do, because I could feel how certain aching places gained stimulation from the movement. I held back a groan and silently congratulated myself with having chosen to wear slacks today.   
God, if I had chosen to wear a skirt today....The consequences would have been disastrous. 

I licked my dry lips as I looked up once more. Bliss was still looking at me. Had she even looked away while I had been looking down? No. I suspected that she had been keeping her gaze locked on me all throughout the class. Once again, I felt that anger bubbling beneath the surface. She has no right to look at me. 

I could feel a flush rising in my cheeks, and I suspected that the anger was leaving a redness in its wake on my chest. I clutched harder at the pencil than what was strictly necessary. If I wasn’t careful, I would end up snapping the damn thing in half. 

Continue your work, Ella, I reminded myself. You’re dawdling and wasting time. Even now when I wasn’t looking, I could feel Bliss’ gaze burn me, and I was done looking up. I was afraid of what was gonna happen if I did. I couldn’t risk it. I just couldn’t.........

“....And that’s it for today, painters! Time’s up!” 

I had never felt more relieved in my life when Griselda finally spoke up. The lesson was done. The lesson was finally done. My shoulders uncurled as everyone let go of their pencils, and Bliss shrugged her robe back on and disappeared into the other room to get dressed.

I wanted to bolt. I wanted to grab my things, dash out of the door and then drive away in my car never to return. I wanted to resume my quiet life and forget that this had ever happened. 

I didn’t. Instead I forced myself to remain firmly rooted to the spot as Griselda walked around between us and judged todays work. When she reached my table, she promptly snatched my sketchbook and made a satisfied little humming sound. “this is excellent, Mrs. Benson. I’ll retire next year, give me a call if you want to be the next teacher.” 

There were a few snickers at that, but I didn’t really pay attention. I just smiled politely as Griselda handed the sketchbook back to me, and I silently counted the seconds until I could leave this hell on earth. 

But Griselda took her time. Did she always take such a long time with judging the portraits? I shifted on my chair for the millionth time that day. 

After what felt like forever, Griselda finally judged Yvonne’s portrait as the last one, and she send us off with her usual: “cooking class will be here in twenty minutes. Chop, chop.” 

More snickers, and then the usual rustle and bustle as everyone packed their sketchbook and pencils away. I did the same and silently cursed myself. My legs felt so weak, and I still had that fluttering feeling low in my stomach. I would have to take a long, warm bath to relax when I got home. And maybe I would have a glass of wine too. Just a small one, of course. 

“See you next Tuesday, Brittie,” Gus said jovially and smiled at me.

“Yes,” I said automatically, but I had little intention of ever showing my face at these lessons again. I never should have come back here. It was a huge mistake. At least I knew that now. 

I did my best to smile at both Gus and Alexandra as they left. I even managed to walk away from my table, but I only reached the middle of the room before I had to stop and take a breath. God, I was being ridiculous. 

But at least nobody paid attention to my odd behavior. Everyone was crowding the door, and I watched as Yvonne and Robert left. Then Jamie and Wendy. I should leave too, but for some reason, I found it immensely hard to move my feet right now. 

I took another deep breath. 

Finally, with Rick being the last one to leave, the room was quite empty. I was the last person standing, so to speak. I filled my lungs with air and then puffed it out harshly. Rubbed a hand over my face. 

My mouth felt dry. But there were certain other places that didn’t feel quite as dry, and I winced slightly at the feeling. God, Ella, what is going on with you? You are acting completely irrational. This cannot happen, you can’t just-

“Hey.” 

Hearing her voice almost made me flinch, and I turned around in a flash. 

Bliss had re-dressed. She was wearing a pair of black jeans that were sitting snugly around her hips, a blue tanktop and a ragged denim jacket over it. The sleeves had been rolled up. And she had the nerve to smile at me. 

“What the hell was that?” I demanded. I was seething with anger, and I deeply regretted that the anger was making my voice quiet and not loud. 

“I don’t know,” Bliss said plainly, and for some reason I was relived. Relieved that she didn’t try to deny it. 

“Have you lost your mind?” I asked. Now my voice was trembling slightly. 

“Yes. Maybe,” Bliss said, and her face was so open, so honest I wanted to yell. 

“You think this is funny?” I asked. “Is this some kind of game to you?” 

“I- no, Ella,” Bliss said and shook her head firmly. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have.... But I just couldn’t help it.”

“And you think that makes it okay?!” I said and finally my voice was growing stronger. “I thought I had made things clear the last time we spoke, and then you go and pull a stunt like this!” 

“I’m sorry!” Bliss said. Her voice was growing stronger too. “But I can’t just... switch off my feelings, Ella. That’s not how this wor-“ 

“Alright, you can stop right there!” I barked and interrupted her. “Stop talking about feelings. There are no feelings. All there is, was a drunken mistake!” 

“Okay, maybe we were drunk,” Bliss said, “but that doesn’t change how I feel about you!” 

“That’s enough!” I hissed and felt tempted to stomp my feet. “I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t have come back here. That was clearly a mistake.” 

“A mistake because you’re scared?” Bliss asked plainly. 

“I am not-“ 

“Oh, but I think you are,” Bliss interrupted and came closer to me. “I think you’re scared because you’ve finally realized that you can’t hide behind your easel or your sketchbook anymore. It’s too late. I’ve   
seen you.” 

She was standing too close. I could smell the apples in her perfume. “I don’t want you to see me!” I hissed. “I don’t want to hear of what you think I am or am not! I want you to listen to me very carefully. 

I’m married! For Christ sake, I have twenty one years of marriage under my belt! I love my husband! Maybe, my life isn’t perfect, but it’s good. I’m happy!” 

“Are you? Are you really? Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you’re settling,” Bliss said plainly. 

I took a deep breath, forcing myself not to yell at her. “I can’t do this!” I said through gritted teeth. “Surely, you understand that?! I can’t actually do this. So whatever this is or was, it’s got to stop, and it’s got to stop now, do you understand? It’s over!” 

With that, I spun around on my heels and left her standing in the room. I slammed the door behind me, and the sound echoed in the now quiet building. 

I panted heavily as I leaned back against the door in an attempt to collect myself. I should have left right then and there. I should have ran out of there, gone into my car and driven away with every intention of never going back. 

But I didn’t. Instead I turned around once more and yanked the door open again. Bliss was still standing where I left her. She hadn’t even moved an inch, and she looked surprised at my sudden re-appearance. 

I didn’t even think twice before I closed the distance between us and kissed her. I gripped the back of her neck as I slotted our lips together, and soon I felt Bliss arms around me. If she was still surprised,   
she did an excellent job at hiding it. God, her lips were velvety soft and perfect against my own. The scent of her perfume was filling my nostrils completely. Apples and cinnamon. And I could smell the vanilla from her shampoo as well. And just the faintest trace of paint. Her hands came up to rest on my cheeks, and I pressed my hand against the small of her back to bring her even closer. Right now, I couldn’t believe that this was a terrible thing to do. Right now, I refused to acknowledge that what I was doing was wrong. I just wanted to keep kissing her until I ran out of air. Until nothing else mattered. 

Suddenly, she said something, and it took me a moment to realize that she was in fact saying my name. Another wave of dizzying heath rose in my body, and I could feel how underused parts of myself were coming alive.

“Ella....” Bliss breathed again and hearing her say my name like that was simply too much. I covered her mouth with my own. I didn’t want to talk right now. Because talking would remind me how wrong this was. How much I shouldn’t be doing this. How much we shouldn’t be doing this. 

Bliss’ arms winded around my neck, and soon she was pressed flush against me. I could feel how the warmth from her skin seeped into mine, and I buried my fingers in her unruly curls. And then she was parting her lips for me. She was gaining me entrance, and I should have thought twice before I let the tip of my tongue brush against hers, but I didn’t. 

Common sense was overrated right now. Common sense was definitely overrated right now.........


	16. Chapter 16

“... Don’t leave without me, I just have to find my phone and I’ll be right there!”

The door was slammed open, and Bliss and I immediately broke the kiss. I managed to put a fair distance between us and wiped my mouth quickly, and in exactly the right time. Gus came inside, muttering something under his breath about his phone, and he looked up in sheer surprise when he saw us. 

“Oh,” he said. “And I thought I would burst in in the middle of a cooking class and make a fool out of myself.” 

I didn’t know what to say. Right now, I couldn’t come up with a single excuse as to why Bliss and I were still here. 

“Nope, today’s your lucky day,” Bliss said and flashed him a beaming smile. 

“Yeah, clearly. Oh, there it is,” Gus said as he spotted the missing phone lying on his desk. He quickly walked over to the desk and grabbed the missing item. He carefully slid the phone into the pocket of his jeans, and then he turned to us. 

“See you guys next Tuesday,” he smiled. 

“Yeah,” Bliss said and nodded in confirmation.

I settled for flashing him a smile. Under no circumstances would I come back next Tuesday. I couldn’t. Not after this. 

Gus said something to Alexandra who was seemingly waiting for him by the door, and then he wished us a good day and left.

I waited until he closed the door behind him. Then I wiped my mouth again. Ran a hand through my hair. It wasn’t mussed up. That made me feel a little calmer. So perhaps there wasn’t any clear evidence in my face. I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and went over to the nearest table and grabbed my bag. I had just sort of dumped it there in the heat of the moment. I quickly looked inside it to ensure that my phone, car keys, driver’s license, and house key were there. I wasn’t interested in coming back here a third time because I had forgotten half of my stuff. 

Once ensured that everything was there, I straightened my posture and smoothened a hand over my blazer. Picked invisible dust off my slacks. I should leave. I should leave right now. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been here long enough as it is.

I grabbed my purse a little more firmly and my heels echoed against the floor as I walked towards the door. 

“You’re going to run away again?” 

I froze on the spot for a second. Then I turned around and looked at Bliss. She was standing behind me with her arms folded across her chest, and despite the slight accusative tone, she didn’t look angry in any way. 

“I’m not running away,” I said slowly. 

“My bad. Are you gonna walk away again?” Bliss asked calmly. 

“I believe that’s the most sensible thing to do,” I said and tried to sound as calm as she seemingly was. 

“Why?” she asked. Once again completely plainly. 

“Because this is not... This is....” 

“Another mistake?” Bliss finished the sentence and raised an eyebrow very slightly. “Nobody is drinking right now, Ella.” 

“No,” I acknowledged. “But I’m not... I’m not gay, Bliss.” 

Bliss almost seemed amused at that. “Maybe not.” 

“I’m not,” I said firmly. I was sure of that.

“Alright,” said Bliss and took a step closer to me. “Wanna tell me what you are then?” 

“Bored!” it bursted out of me. “Bored knee deep in a midlife crisis. That’s what this is about. I’m so pathetic and bored, I’m willing to do just about anything to spice up my life, and...” I took a deep breath before continuing: “and obviously, that’s very wrong of me. I can’t just jeopardize everything I’ve built with my husband over something that’s new and exciting. I can’t do that to him, and I certainly can’t bring you into this. That’s not fair to you.” 

Bliss had listened quietly to my little speech, but now she scoffed and rolled her coffee colored eyes once. “Wow, you really enjoy taking the blame for everything, don’t you?” 

I ignored that. “I’m sorry about this, Bliss,” I said and adjusted the shoulder strap on my bag slightly. “I shouldn’t have-“ the rest of the sentence died on my lips when Bliss reached out and put her hand on top of mine that was still resting on the shoulder strap. It was just a very slight touch, but it still made me feel shockingly warm all over. 

“I think you apologize too much,” Bliss said gently. 

“I do not.” 

“You do.” She stated firmly, and then she was coming closer. “And about that midlife crisis.... I don’t buy it.” and before I could say anything else, she was kissing me. A different kiss than before. This was much softer. Gentler. 

I should have pulled away. I knew I should. I should have done the only sensible thing and left the room at once. 

But I didn’t. Instead I remained rooted to the spot and allowed our lips to meet for the third time. And once again, I was completely overwhelmed by how wonderfully she smelled. Apples. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Her dark tendrils were tickling me slightly, and I marveled at how soft her lips were. How effortlessly they formed against mine. Her hands that slid up to rest against my cheeks once more were soft too. I kept searching for patches of hardened skin, but I couldn’t find any. The only thing I could feel was pure softness against my cheeks. Just that.

Something was unfurling and blooming low in my belly, and I didn’t quite know what to do with it, because it had been so long since that feeling had been allowed to grow and take root. I shouldn’t have allowed my eyelids to slid close and get lost in the sensation. I shouldn’t have allowed her to deepen the kiss either. I shouldn’t immediately have craved more when I felt the tip of her tongue against my bottom lip. Nor should I willingly have parted my lips for her. The tip of her tongue wrapping around mine and then sucking gently shouldn’t have made me sigh slightly into the kiss. I should have remained passive. But I didn’t. Instead I moved my hand up and put it on her cheek. God, how soft and smooth it was. And she was warm. So warm. She made me dizzy. She made me feel things. Things I absolutely could not allow myself to feel. Things I shouldn’t feel. Things I had no business feeling. 

What are you doing, Ella? I thought to myself as I finally snapped back to reality and realized that this wasn’t actually something that could happen. What on earth had gotten into me? 

I moved my hands from her cheeks to her shoulders as I pushed her away. The kiss ended, and I hated myself for feeling a pang of disappointment at the loss of contact. 

But Bliss smiled, and her coffee colored eyes sparkled as she said: “you like me. The way I like you.” 

“I....” I shook my head and took a step backwards. “I don’t know. I can’t...” 

Bliss took my hand. “Ella, this is not something you need to run away from.” 

But it was. The images of Lucas and Stephen flashed before my inner eye, and I immediately felt immensely guilty for what had just happened. What was I thinking?! I was a married woman. I had been married for twenty one years. I had built a life with my husband and son. Since when was I willing to throw that overboard for... For what? A crazy fling? A silly crush? No. I was too old to have a crush.   
Crushes were for my son. Not me.

I shook my head again, and my explanation was more rambling than anything else: “I’ve been going through a rough patch lately, and that has obviously left me quite confused. I’m sorry that I brought you into this. That wasn’t fair of me. And I’m sorry if I made you think that I.... I’m not, alright? I cannot. So this can’t... This can’t happen again. I’m sorry. I really am. I won’t come to the next lesson. I promise this is the last you’ll see of me. Goodbye.” 

And with that, I rushed out of the door and left Bliss standing in the middle of the room for the second time that day. But this time, I didn’t go back. I couldn’t. Instead I rushed out of the building, crossed the parking lot in two strides and then ripped the car door open. I more or less flung myself into the car, and my knuckles were turning white as I clutched the wheel. I had to leave, and I had to leave right now. Before I could make another mistake. Before I could dig myself in deeper. 

As I drove back towards my home, I did something I rarely did. I speeded. And I tried not to look too long at the madwoman I saw in the mirror. The woman that was in fact me......

*************************************

I had hoped that returning home to my own house, be amongst my own belongings, would made me come to my senses.

But it didn’t. 

Instead I felt more confused than ever as I discarded of my coat in the hallway, eased my feet out of my shoes and then continued into the kitchen. The house was quiet. Lucas was having dinner at Trevor’s, and being the generous mother I was, I had graciously allowed him to sleep over at Trevor’s too. I probably shouldn’t have because he had school tomorrow and all, but right now, I felt sickeningly grateful that Lucas wasn’t here. He would take one look at my face and then ask me what was wrong. And I wouldn’t have been capable of coming up with a lie good enough. Because how could I ever explain this to him? How do you explain to your thirteen year old son that you, his mother, have lost your mind and kissed a woman who was twenty years younger than you? Lucas would think that I had gone mad. And perhaps I had. Perhaps there was a very fair chance that I was losing it. I sighed gravely as I ignored the urge to pour myself a drink and went over to the sink instead where I methodically scrubbed my hands free of paint until my skin was going red and starting to pinch slightly. 

I had to sort this somehow. I wasn’t completely sure how, but I had a couple of ideas. The first one was also the one I had dubbed as being “the cowards plan”: I quitted the drawing class once and for all. 

I sat down right now and wrote an email to Griselda in which I explained that I couldn’t keep attending the lessons due to a personal matter. That would be an elegant way to put it. People never asked if you wrote “personal matter” in the email. Step two in “the cowards plan” would be to send the email to Griselda and then book a vacation. A vacation just for me. I could go somewhere secluded. 

Somewhere isolated. Somewhere where I could just be myself and think all of this through. I could be away for two weeks maybe, and then once I got back, I would have everything in control, and I would have forgotten all about this silly crush. I would be calm and collected and return to my old life with Stephen and Lucas. 

The second option was less cowardly and more difficult. And that was most likely why I didn’t like it. Because it involved talking to someone about this. If I followed through with my second plan, I would call Delia. I would ask her to meet either at my house, or at her summer residence. Perhaps her summer residence would be best. That way Lucas wouldn’t return home in the middle of it. 

And then once Delia and I were sitting down and chatting pleasantly over a glass of wine or a cup of tea, I would tell her. I would tell her everything. Put everything on the table, so to speak. I would tell her about Bliss. The drunken kiss we had shared. The kiss I had claimed to be nothing but a mistake. The other kisses that hadn’t been drunk and had felt less like a mistake. How it had felt as though she somehow had awakened something within me. Something I hadn’t felt in ages.

I realized that the water was still on. I was wasting it for nothing. I quickly switched the tap off and wiped my hands on a dishtowel. Then I went towards the backdoor and grabbed my garden gloves in the process. It had been a while since I last had tended to the garden, and maybe clearing it of weeds would be enough to take my mind off things at least for a while. 

It wasn’t. 

My thoughts kept swirling around what had happened today, and now that I finally was able to push my first state of arousal out of the way, there was only embarrassment left. What had I been thinking? 

And Bliss.... I could only imagine what she was thinking right now. First, I get angry and leave after having ended things. Then I storm back and kiss her. Then we’re interrupted and I backpedal but still let her kiss me, and then I get angry and leave. Again. 

I didn’t doubt that Bliss now thought that I was some crazy, unhinged woman. And maybe I was. 

And maybe I needed to talk to Delia. Maybe there was a fair chance that I was gonna lose it if I kept this bottled up for much longer. 

I sort of hoped that Delia would tell me that I was silly. That I was overthinking this. That suddenly getting a crush on someone was completely normal and didn’t necessarily mean that I should act on it. That’s what I hoped she would say. 

I ripped another few weeds out of the ground with more force than intended. The roots and all followed, and my slacks got soiled. Why was I even doing garden work in my slacks? Was this really what my common sense had gotten to? 

Irritated with myself, I abandoned all thoughts of tending to the garden. I was far too distracted for that right now. I went back inside the house and ripped my garden gloves off. Washed my hands thoroughly once more until my skin prickled slightly. 

I was still debating whether to treat myself to a glass of wine or not when my phone rang, and I yelped in pure shock and surprise. My heart hammered in my chest. I was afraid that it was Stephen who was calling me. And I was afraid to answer if it was him. I feared that he somehow would be able to hear the evidence of today’s events in my voice. 

But it wasn’t Stephen calling me. It was Delia. How odd. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that she had been summoned by my thoughts. 

Now that I knew it was her calling me and not my husband, I was quick to swipe a finger over the screen and bring the phone up to my ear. “Hello?” 

“Hello, Ella,” came Delia’s cheerful voice in the other end. “I didn’t dare calling you before now. I knew you would be at your art class.” 

“I’m home now,” I said and immediately felt a little silly. Delia already knew that. 

“What are you doing not this Saturday, but the next?” Delia asked briskly. 

“Nothing,” I said and gave a very predictable answer. Stephen was on his business trip in Los Angeles, and Lucas... Well, Lucas would most likely make plans with Trevor instead of staying in with his mum.

“Then let’s meet up,” Delia said cheerfully. “I have something to tell you.” 

“Oh? And what’s that?” 

“No, no, no,” Delia laughed. “Not over the phone. You’ll have to wait until that Saturday.”

“Very well,” I said and tried to not let my voice slip into that nervous, high pitched tune. “I have... something I need to tell you as well. Or, at least talk to you about.” 

“Alright,” Delia said, the cheerfulness gone from her voice. “Is everything okay?” 

“No,” I said plainly. “But it’s not something I want to discuss over the phone.” 

“Then let’s meet up Saturday,” Delia repeated.

I immediately agreed to that. Yes, I would gladly drive to Montpelier. That would be a welcome change. 

*******************

But time couldn’t exactly go by in a flash, and I had to live through another week before, I could pour my heart out to Delia. One very long week that was.

Wednesday was fine except for the fact that I didn’t fall asleep until 4 in the morning. 

Thursday night was hellish. I fell asleep in reasonable time, but the following morning I would rather have traded my dreams for another sleepless night. 

Because Bliss had been in my dreams. In ways that had made me feel embarrassed and flushed and angry with myself when I woke up. I had been drenched in sweat, and there had been this dull ache between my thighs. 

I had groaned, cursed myself and then stumbled into the shower to wash the embarrassment away. 

But Friday had to be the worst day so far. And not because my dreams had been invaded by a certain young woman with coffee colored eyes. Well, they had, but that wasn’t the main reason why Friday was a bad day. 

It was because of Lucas. Well, not because of him directly. He certainly wasn’t to blame for anything, but at 11 AM I had received a call from the school. Lucas had been involved in some sort of incident, and the school principal curtly asked if I could come and pick him up. 

I had immediately abandoned todays drawing and had rushed out of the house and into the car. I had driven to the school where Lucas had been waiting for me with a sullen expression on his face. And a split lip. 

“Who did that?” I asked horrified. 

“Cole,” Lucas said and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. 

I narrowed my eyes. Cole Sampson. I knew that kid. In my humble opinion, he was a bully. A young man who always yelled instead of talking and loved to pick random fights. 

“Why?” I asked and draped an arm around Lucas’ shoulder as we left the school property. 

Lucas immediately wiggled out of my grasp. “Mom,” he groaned. “Don’t do that. I’m fine, alright?”

“You’re not,” I said firmly. “You’ve been punched in the face, and I’m still waiting for an answer as to why that happened.” 

Lucas shrugged. “Cole was being an idiot.” 

“That’s not an answer, Lucas. Tell me what happened.” 

Lucas grimaced again. “It was during break. Trevor and I were talking, Cole came over and started to pick on Trevor. I got angry and told him to piss off and Cole punched me. End of story.” 

But I was not satisfied with that answer. “Exactly what did Cole say that made you so angry?” 

“Does it matter?” Lucas said sullenly as he opened the door to the passenger seat and wiggled his long body inside the car. 

“No, I don’t suppose it does, but nevertheless-“ 

“He called Trevor a fag!” Lucas interrupted, and I saw how the tips of his ears reddened dangerously. 

“He what?” I asked and completely forgot all about switching the engine off. I knew that Cole Sampson was a bully, but that he would start yelling homophobic slur in the school yard shocked me. 

“That’s why I got so angry,” Lucas said, now somewhat calmer. “I told him that what he was saying was homophobic, and then I asked him to leave. He didn’t. Instead he kept calling Trevor things. Bad things. I yelled at him and told him to piss off. I said that I was gonna report him for what he said, and then he punched me.” 

“I’m calling the principal when we get home,” I said sternly. 

“No, don’t!” Lucas barked. “I don’t want you to-“ he deflated and took a breath. “Look, Cole’s been send home too, okay? And I think the school is gonna call his parents and tell them what he said.” 

“I certainly hope so,” I said tightly. “Otherwise I will.” 

“The school will take care of it,” Lucas said and touched his swollen lip carefully. “I don’t want any more trouble, okay?” 

“Okay,” I nodded. Then I smiled. “I’m very proud of you for sticking up for your friend like that. You did the right thing, Lucas.” 

Lucas flushed a little and then shrugged. “’Fag’ is a very homophobic term to use.”

“You’re right, it is.” 

“And I don’t think anyone should be bullied for liking someone of the same gender,” Lucas continued. 

“They shouldn’t,” I agreed felt how my throat suddenly tightened and my heart hammered against my ribs. The only reason Lucas was saying this was because of what had happened, right? There wasn’t a possibility that he... That he somehow knew?

No. No of course not. Of course he didn’t know anything. Don’t be silly, Ella. How could he know? He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. Absolutely not. The thought alone is completely ridicu-

“Mum?” 

“Yes?” I said quickly and snapped out of it. 

“Are we gonna leave?” 

“Yes. Yes, of course,” I said and quickly switched the engine on. “Put on your seatbelt.” 

“I’m already wearing my seatbelt, mum.” 

“Oh. Right.”

We quickly reached the main road, and Lucas didn’t say much as we drove away from the school. I could sense that he was more shaken up by this than he let on, but since he wasn’t eager to talk about it,   
I tried to reach his heart via a different direction. His stomach. I offered to make him a special kind of sandwich he loved so much when we got home. Lucas eyes started to sparkle at that, but then he pursed his swollen lips slightly. 

“Or we could go to that pie place?” he suggested hopefully. 

“Pie place?” I echoed. Not completely sure what he meant. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You know, that place where you got those pies. The place where that girl works. The one you gave a ride?” 

“Oh, that place,” I squeaked. 

“Mmm. Can we go there? Please?” 

“Well...” no. Absolutely not. Suppose she’s there? Suppose she’s at work today? What do I say? How do I act? How do I pretend that she’s just my waitress and nothing more? I clenched my jaw. She IS just my waitress. And absolutely nothing more. 

“Please?” 

How could I say no to him? He’d had such a bad day. How could I refuse when his lip were swollen, and his cheeks were still pale? He was obviously quite shaken by this. And he would ask why we couldn’t go and have pie. What excuse could I possibly use? 

There were no excuses. And the truth wasn’t exactly an option either. 

“Alright,” I said and scolded my features into a smile. “Let’s go and get some pie.” 

“Sweet,” Lucas said and grinned at the prospect of having cake in the middle of the morning. 

I tried my best to smile back at him, but it felt as though my heart could shatter against my ribs at any moment. 

“Pauline’s Café and Restaurant” was quite empty when Lucas and I arrived, most likely because of the early hour, and Lucas promptly steered us towards a table near the window. 

“What do you want to eat?” I asked as we sat down. I reached for one of the menu’s lying on the table, and at first, I thought that it was the pages that were greasy, but I soon found out that it was in fact my hands that were clammy. 

“Pie,” Lucas teased. 

I clicked my tongue once. “What sort of pie?” 

“Hmm....” he said as he flicked through his menu. “Good question.”

I shifted slightly on my chair. I could still feel my heart thundering away in my chest, and it almost concerned me. Perhaps this would end in a medical emergency. 

“Key Lime pie!” Lucas exclaimed. “With coconut crust!” 

“Glad to hear that there isn’t anything wrong with your appetite,” I teased. 

“What about you? What will you have?” 

“I think I’ll have...” I quickly flicked through my own menu. “A cup of coffee.” 

Lucas made a face. “Seriously?” 

“Yes, it’s still too early to have afternoon tea,” I said unbothered. I couldn’t eat anything. My stomach was fluttering with anxiety, and it was so bad, I was almost a little afraid that I was gonna be sick. 

“But they have chocolate cake!” Lucas argued. “You love chocolate cake, mum!” 

“I also love having lunch before stuffing my face with anything unhealthy,” I said and laughed. “And also, I haven’t been on my run today.” 

“Health freak,” Lucas stated plainly. 

I laughed heartedly. “No, just common sense freak.” 

“Or just freak,” Lucas teased.

“Careful, young man,” I mock scolded. 

But Lucas laughed and wasn’t remotely scared of me. Not even when I mock threated him with my fork. 

I was relieved to see my son laugh and relax once more, but I was still furious at Cole Sampson. And despite Lucas’ plead to do the opposite, it was very possible that I would be calling the school and   
have a little chat with the principal. I refused to accept that one of the students could get away with yelling homophobic slur and then proceeding to punch my son when he was trying to stick up for his friend. 

I drummed my fingers lightly on the table, and Lucas and I chatted pleasantly while we were waiting for someone to show up and take our orders. I almost felt relaxed. Almost. Until.......

“Hi! Have you guys decided what you wanna eat?” 

That voice. That darned, cheerful voice. That bright yellow nail polish. Those curls she flicked away from her face. 

Once again, my heart leapt into my throat. Or so it felt. Of course she had to be at work today. Why had I even expected anything else? 

I forced myself to look up at her instead of keeping my gaze fixated on her toenails. My behavior was probably making Lucas wonder. 

But as soon as I looked up, I knew I had made a mistake. Because there she was, and she looked beautiful in her red leather skirt and her silly baby blue tanktop. And that headband she insisted upon wearing. That silly, flowery headband she had tied around her curls in an attempt to keep them in place. Everything about her made my mouth feel dry, and everything about her was so darn endearing. 

She didn’t even have to stand close to me. I could still smell apple and cinnamon from her perfume and the vanilla scented shampoo she used. 

I was going to hell for feeling the way I felt about her. 

“Are you ready to order?” Bliss asked, and I could have sworn I heard a slight falter in her voice. 

“Yeah! I’ll have a piece of the Key Lime pie, please!” Lucas said, swiftly taking over the conversation. “With hot chocolate.” 

“Do you want whipped cream or marshmallows on your cocoa?” Bliss asked. 

“You guys have marshmallows?” Lucas almost groaned. His gaze flickered to me, but I wasn’t able to go into a discussion regarding marshmallows right now. 

“I’ll have the whipped cream,” Lucas said. “What will you have, mum? Mum?” 

“Yes. Right. I’ll have... uhm... A cup of coffee,” I said. 

“Just coffee? You’re sure I can’t give you anything else?” 

“Just coffee please,” I said and ignored whatever hidden meaning was behind that last sentence. 

“Okay. Coming right up,” Bliss said and flicked her hair away from her face as she walked back to the counter. 

“Thank you!” Lucas called after her when I didn’t say anything. Then he turned his attention back to me: “are you alright, mum?” 

“Yes. Of course I am,” I said and immediately smiled at him. 

But I wasn’t. That much was painfully obvious. As were another thing. I couldn’t just put this behind me. Something had changed. But I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. I felt... I felt lost. And so, so confused. 

Lucas dug into his piece of pie, and judging by the sounds he made, he thoroughly enjoyed it. 

I sipped my coffee and tried to pretend that this was any normal day. That I still was the same Ella, enjoying a sponanious café trip with my son. 

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember how I used to act before all of this started. As I took another sip of my coffee, I silently wished that I had never joined that stupid art class in the first place. I should have stayed content with watching Downtown Abbey and taking care of the house. Apparently, it was dangerous to wish for more. 

Wish for more. Yes, I wished for more. It was horrible, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Bliss even though I had no business thinking about her. I kept thinking about the kisses we had shared after everyone else had left the art class. And I was shocked to discover that I wanted more moments like those. I wanted more Bliss. 

“Mum? Hello?” 

I suddenly registered the hand being waved in front of my face, and I was quick to look up at my son. “I’m sorry, honey. Apparently, I’m a little distracted today.” 

“Do you miss dad?” Lucas asked. 

I tried not to cringe. “I always miss your father when he isn’t here, but I was actually thinking about Delia. She has something to tell me, and we’re meeting up this Saturday. I’m just wondering what it is she wants to tell me, that’s all.” that was a clever lie, and once again I was shocked. Since when was I lying to my son? 

“Oh,” Lucas said and nodded. “And you’re worried because you think it’s something bad?” 

“No, I don’t think it’s something bad,” I said quickly. “But it was something she wouldn’t tell me over the phone, and I suppose I’m a little annoyed that she wouldn’t.” 

“Oh,” Lucas said, and this time he was chuckling. “You’re annoyed because she’s keeping a secret from you.” 

“Yes, that’s it,” I free-wheeled and silently scolded myself for lying to my son. What was I thinking?! 

Lucas laughed and speared another piece of pie on his fork. He stuffed it into his mouth, and I took another sip of my coffee. I felt awful. Lucas thought we were having a nice time together, and in reality,   
I was sitting here and lying to him. What sort of mother did that made me? 

A terrible one. 

A lump formed in my throat and I quickly took another sip of my coffee. A larger one this time. 

Soon we concluded our little café visit, and Lucas was grinning as he thanked me for the pie and cocoa. 

“You’re welcome, honey,” I said and did my best to smile back at him. 

We crossed the little parking lot and went towards the car. We were just discussing who should be in charge over the radio, when I sensed that the café door behind us were opened. The next second, an all too familiar voice called out to me: 

“Excuse me, ma’am? I think I mugged up your tab. You’ve paid too much.” 

I stopped in my tracks and Lucas grinned. “You’re getting all your money back,” he chuckled. 

“Well, probably not all of them,” I corrected. “But I better go back and get this sorted out.” 

“Can I have the car keys then?” Lucas asked. 

“Don’t blow the windows out,” I warned as I gave him the car keys. I knew how much he loved to play loud music. 

He snickered as he marched towards the car. 

But laughing was probably just about the last thing on my mind as I went back towards the café, pushed the door open and then went inside. It didn’t take long before I saw Bliss peer out at me from the backroom. She made a little gesture with her hands when we made eye contact, and I had no choice but to walk into the backroom. 

As opposed to the last time, she seemed oddly nervous as I closed the door to the backroom and looked anticipatingly at her. 

“Ella,” she said quietly. 

Her voice was enough to make my intestines feel as though they were trembling. 

“I’m guessing that you haven’t messed up my tab,” I said plainly. 

“You’re right, I haven’t,” Bliss said, still just as quietly. “That was just a lame excuse.” 

I shook my head. “Bliss...” I didn’t finish the sentence. I wasn’t even sure what the end of the sentence was gonna be. I don’t want you to make excuses? This is wrong? I can’t do this? Neither of those statements were true. 

“I.... Can’t stop thinking about you,” Bliss said. 

There was that trembling sensation again. I didn’t know what to say. My mouth felt dry. But I knew that I should probably say something, so I managed a meek: “I see.” 

Bliss raised an eyebrow. “You’re not angry about that?” 

“No, I’m not angry,” I said. “How could I be?” 

Bliss shifted slightly on her feet. “I’ve been... Thinking a lot about you since the last time. How you’ve been.” 

“I haven’t been doing so well,” I said honestly. 

“Because of me?” she asked. 

“Because of what happened,” I corrected. 

“Oh,” her face fell a little. “Because you think it was-“ 

“Because I’m confused,” I interrupted. “I feel like I don’t even know myself anymore. I don’t... I don’t know what I want anymore.” And that was completely confusing. I had always prided myself in claiming that I knew what I wanted in life. And I had never asked for much. Being Stephen’s wife. A good place to raise my son, a safe neighborhood. Regular meetings and coffee appointment with Delia. 

And now that I suddenly found myself wanting something else, I felt completely confused, because I didn’t know what to do with my feelings. I wasn’t even sure what those feelings were, exactly. Was I just a confused woman, bored with her life, or did all of this actually mean something? 

I didn’t know. And the confusion was beginning to get the best of me. An enormous lump formed in my throat. 

“Hey,” Bliss said gently and took my hand. 

I didn’t even want to pull my hand out of her grasp. Her hand was so soft and warm against mine. 

“I’m sorry for having confused you, but...” Bliss shook her head slightly. “I have to see you again, Ella. I can’t stand being in that room and looking at you without being able to...” 

I remembered her burning gaze during the last art class I had been attending, and my stomach instantly filled with hot, burning desire. 

Bliss took another step towards me, and one of her hands came up to touch my cheek. Soon her face was only inches from me, and while I wanted nothing more to pull her closer and kiss her again, I had to think of certain things. 

Like the fact that my son was waiting for me in the car. And this was the back room of a café. Not exactly the place for this sort of thing. 

“I can’t,” I said and quickly turned my face. “Not here. Not now.” 

“Okay,” Bliss said gently. “But please don’t start ignoring me again.” 

I shook my head a little. “I don’t think that’s possible anymore.” And it wasn’t. I couldn’t just close my eyes and pretend that there wasn’t anything going on between us.

Bliss flashed me this heart wrenchingly beautiful, hopeful smile as she released my hands. “Don’t rush out after the next sketching class,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t really planned on going.”

“Please do,” Bliss said. “And wait for me afterwards. Please.” 

“Okay,” I heard myself agree. It was madness, but I agreed. “But now I really have to go.” 

“Alright,” Bliss said. 

I flashed her a tiny, wobbly smile and then I turned around to push the door open. But right before I did, I felt her hand on my shoulder. I turned around again. 

“Don’t forget your tab,” Bliss said, and then she was handing me a piece of paper. 

“I thought you said that you didn’t- oh.” Unfolding the piece of paper, I realized that she had scribbled down her number. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” Bliss said jokingly, but then grew serious once more: “I would really love to hear from you, Ella.” 

“I’ll... I’ll see what I can do. Thank you,” I said and stuffed the note into my pocket. Then I finally left the back room and hurried out of the café.

In the car, Lucas was somewhat confused and wanted answers as to why it had taken so long. 

“There had been some sort of mistake with the tab,” I lied. 

I felt guilty, but the truth wasn’t an option either. Definitely not.


	17. Chapter 17

Throughout the rest of that day, the note with Bliss’ phone number weighed heavily in my pocket, and I kept changing my mind between wanting to throw the note out or saving the number in my phone. 

I ended up opting for the second choice. It was late, long after Lucas had gone to bed when I finally added Bliss’ number to my contacts, and then threw the note away. It felt a little strange, knowing that I had her number now. That I could contact her whenever I felt like. That I didn’t have to wait until Tuesday to talk to her. But at the same time, it felt strangely good too.

That next morning, while Lucas was in his room, getting dressed for the day, I took things one step further and send Bliss a text:

‘Thank you for giving me your number yesterday. Ella.’

I wasn’t completely sure what I had hoped to achieve by sending that text, but not even a minute later, my phone vibrated against the table, and I quickly picked it up to check the newly arrived text:

‘No problem! I’m so happy to hear from you :)’

She was happy to hear from me. Bliss was happy to hear from me. That should have been a huge problem for me. But it wasn’t. And maybe that should have been a problem too. 

The screen lit up again, and I took a quick sip of my tea as I checked the message:

‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you this Tuesday!’ 

What was I supposed to say to that? Lie and tell her that the feeling wasn’t mutual? No. That would be ridiculous. I sat the cup of tea down as I quickly replied to that message:

‘I’m looking forward to seeing you too.’

This time, I didn’t even get the chance to put the phone down before another message arrived, and I licked my lips slightly as I read the message. 

‘I’ve been thinking a lot about you since yesterday. Am I allowed to tell you that?’

‘Probably not. But the feeling is mutual. I’ve been thinking a lot about you too.’

‘Really? :)’

‘Yes.’

What am I doing? I silently asked myself. Had I completely lost my mind? I was playing with fire. I was acting reckless, and maybe this was plain stupid, but it didn’t feel stupid. I didn’t feel stupid for sending those texts to her. I felt uplifted and excited. Happy, even. 

‘Are you gonna stick around after the lesson on Tuesday?’

I frowned slightly as I replied to the text. 

‘I believe you asked me too. But why, exactly?’

‘I have something I wanna show you :)’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Wait and see. But I promise you, it’ll make you happy.’

‘Very well then.’

I wasn’t very good with surprises, but I was willing to wait. 

“Mum?” 

And that concluded my little morning exchange. I quickly made the texts disappear from the screen and then slid the phone back into my pocket. 

The next second, Lucas came trotting into the kitchen, and I immediately greeted him with a smile and a: “good morning, honey.” 

“Good morning,” he said and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he sat down. “Pass the orange juice, please?” 

I handed him the carton. “Here you go.” 

“Thanks.” 

I watched as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, and I suddenly realized how grown up he looked with his hair carefully styled with gel and wearing a blue button down. He looked like a mini version of Stephen. Almost a young man. I shook my head slightly. He would be turning fourteen soon and from there... Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.... He’s going to leave home soon. He’s growing up and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I knew it was selfish of me to wish that time could go a little slower, but right now, I couldn’t quite comprehend that my son was growing up in front of my eyes. 

“What?” Lucas asked and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you staring at me?” 

“I wasn’t,” I lied. “I’m sorry. I think I zoned out for a moment.” 

“Oh.” He laughed. “Well, you looked pretty stoned for a moment.” 

“Lucas,” I protested, but nevertheless laughed. 

Our little breakfast séance was a cozy affair. Lucas seemed fine after yesterday’s drama, and he had no problems with going to school today. In fact he was looking forward to going over there and seeing his friends. I was delighted. I had feared that it could have become an issue, but it seemingly hadn’t, and before he left, Lucas once again reminded me to not call the school principal. I promised that I wouldn’t, but also reminded him to immediately find a teacher if he could sense that there was trouble at mill. He rolled his eyes but promised to do so. Without “whatever’ing” me. That was definitely a big improvement. 

After he left to catch the bus, I poured myself a second cup of morning tea and enjoyed how quiet the house was. I could hear the birds chirp now and then, but apart from that, it was completely quiet. It was the perfect day for a run, so after having finished my second cup of tea, I went upstairs and traded my pajamas and bathrobe for a tanktop and a pair of yoga pants. As I shimmied into the yoga pants, 

I noted that they felt slightly looser. Had I lost weight? Perhaps I had. But that wasn’t such a bad thing. I could easily benefit from losing a bit of weight. As long as I didn’t go overboard with it. 

I grabbed my headphones from the bedside drawer and then went back downstairs where I found my running shoes in the hallway. I crouched down as I tied the shoelaces and made a neat bow as a finishing touch. Then I found my phone I had left abandoned on the kitchen table. I shuffled through my Spotify play list until I found the song I was looking for. With or Without You with U2. Lucas had always found that to be hilarious. He claimed that I had a weakness for Bono, and I always strongly denied that whenever he said it. 

I chuckled quietly to myself as I slipped the headphones into my ears and then left the house. 

It really was a beautiful morning, and I found myself smiling as I ventured out into the sunshine. I felt completely light as I began my run. Perhaps even slightly weightless, and I wasn’t completely sure why. 

Perhaps it was simply because of the nice weather. 

Or perhaps it was because of a few texts from someone I was starting to appreciate more and more. 

It felt as though my stomach did a slight flip as I thought of Bliss.

The rest of that week and weekend went by in a comfortable blur. I did my usual housework, attended my French lessons, though not with the same vigor as before, watched television and drove Lucas to and from football. Or soccer, as I called it when I wanted to tease him. And the grimace I got was worth all of it. I laughed heartedly when he told me that “we’re not in England, mum!” 

And on Tuesday morning, Lucas kept glancing at me over his cereal. 

“What?” I asked self-consciously and brushed a hand over my white silk blouse. Had I unknowingly managed to spill tea on my shirt? 

“You’re very happy this morning,” Lucas pointed out.

I felt a twinge of panic. Had I been acting too ecstatic? Too over the top? Pull yourself together, Ella. 

“Well, I’m going for another drawing lesson,” I said slowly and brushed a hand over my blouse again. Now self-conscious for a whole different reason. 

“Oh,” Lucas said and nodded a little. “You really like those lessons, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I do,” I confirmed. Suddenly, my hands felt a bit clammy, and I quickly wiped them on a napkin.

Lucas went back to eating his cereal, but I had suddenly lost all interest in my two slices of toast with jam. Suddenly, I was thinking too much of Bliss and whatever it was she wanted to show me after today’s lesson. My phone felt heavy in my pocket as I thought of those messages Bliss and I had been exchanging. Those forbidden messages. They hadn’t been sordid or explicit in any way, and yet they were still forbidden, I knew that. 

The sound of the dishwasher being opened and then closed brought me back to reality, and I looked up at Lucas as he grabbed his school bag. 

“Have a nice day at school, honey,” I said. “Do you have your lunch money?” 

“Yup.” 

“Good. Don’t buy anything too unhealthy, alright?” 

Blue eyes were rolled at that. “Alright, mum,” he parroted. “I’ll order the healthiest meal the cantina has to offer.” 

“That’s my boy,” I said and completely ignored his mocking tone. 

He mock sneered at me, but then laughed, offered me his usual “bye, mum!” and then he left the kitchen. A few seconds later, I heard the front door being opened and then closed with a bang. Lucas still didn’t know the correct way to close a door. It always annoyed Stephen endlessly, but I actually sort of liked it. It was always a pretty strong indicator as to where in the house Lucas was, and I liked to know that. 

I emptied my teacup and then I went upstairs to get ready for today’s lesson. 

I made a bigger deal out of choosing what to wear than I normally would, and I tried not to think too much of the reason why that was. 

I was definitely early as I arrived at my destination. In fact I was twenty minutes too early. It didn’t take me long to feel silly because of it. 

And the clothes I had chosen to wear today. That made me feel silly too. I had definitely gone overboard with my clothing. I was wearing a light purple dress with little cap sleeves and sheer stockings underneath. And I had let my hair hang loose. Honey golden tendrils were flowing freely around my face. Exactly like they had done when Bliss had complimented me. 

But while I was satisfied with the way my hair looked, I feared that I had taken my clothes one step too far. I was afraid that I was being too obvious. That my sudden urge to look nice would be noticed by everyone. 

But it was too late to do anything about it now. I sighed a little as I grabbed my bag and then went inside. I should have brought a cardigan with me. That would have made things less awkward. 

The faint smell of yeast was hanging in the air. I had clearly arrived right after the baking class had left. Eager to ger the smell out of the room, I cranked one of the windows open. It creaked slightly but opened and I inhaled deeply when the first wave of fresh air hit me. It was another beautiful day with sunshine and a clear blue sky. I could hear the faint chirps from birds here and there. It was all very idyllic. 

“You know, I’m starting to think that someone ought to paint you.” 

I quickly turned my head at the all too familiar voice, and there she was, standing behind me, wearing only the thin, white bathrobe I had seen her wearing about a million times now. 

“You look really nice,” Bliss said and flashed me a smile. “That’s a very pretty dress.” 

“I- thank you.” I said and settled for not revealing that I was already regretting my choice of wardrobe. 

“Someone ought to paint you,” Bliss repeated and smiled. 

“And who might that be?” I mused out loud. “Can you paint?” 

“No,” Bliss chuckled. “But I’m fairly decent with a camera. You should let me photograph you one day.” 

“I don’t like being photographed,” I said automatically. 

“That’s a mistake,” Bliss said plainly and then she was coming closer to rest her hand on top of mine that were still resting on the windowsill. “I like photographing beautiful things.” 

I laughed a bit strangled. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Or maybe you do,” Bliss shot back. “And maybe that scares you.” 

“Perhaps,” I agreed, and made no attempt at moving my hand away from hers. I had reached a point where I felt like not touching her was more tortuous than actually touching her. 

“You know, I was really glad that you texted me,” Bliss said softly. 

“I was glad that you gave me your number,” I quietly retorted. 

“Can I say that I’ve been thinking a lot about you since the last time?” Bliss asked. 

“No, probably not. But I’ve been.... I’ve been thinking about you too. A lot.” I said quietly. It was probably a mistake, but I turned around to face her. Coffee colored eyes bored into mine, and I felt that   
familiar fluttering somewhere behind my navel. 

I was falling, and I was falling fast. 

And obviously, that should have been a huge problem, but right now, I failed to see anything wrong with it. And even more so when Bliss suddenly leaned in and planted a light kiss on my lips. I didn’t pull back. In fact I did nothing to stop what was happening, and sensing that, Bliss’ hands came up to rest on my cheeks. 

Again, the warmth from her palms seemed to seep right through my skin, and there were many things I wanted to do right now. One of them was suggesting that we left right now, and another one was undoing the knot in her bathrobe belt and pulling the thin material away from her body. She had come closer, and I could feel every part of her through the bathrobe. I could feel how her nipples had hardened, and everything about that made me dizzy. Our kiss wasn’t quite as light anymore either. Instead I could feel the tip of her tongue against my lower lip, and then her teeth. I gasped when I realized that she had in fact just nipped lightly at my lower lip. Nobody had ever done that before. Nobody had ever kissed me like that. I didn’t mind it at all. In fact I enjoyed more than I could ever have imagined, and I caught myself wishing that she would do it again. 

And she did. Teeth scraped lightly over my bottom lip, and then the soft flesh was nipped at again. Before I could stop myself, I moaned slightly into the kiss. Something was definitely happening to me. 

My skin was heating up in a way it hadn’t done in quite a while. My mind was starting to cloud over with an arousal I hadn’t felt in good knows how long. There was that vaguely familiar tightening sensation in my nipples, and that distinct pull between my legs. Once again, the urge to simply undo the belt in her bathrobe became tempting, but at the same time I was shocked that I could even consider doing that. 

I needed air, and unfortunately, the urge to breathe was stronger than the urge to kiss her. I had to push her away. And when I did, the first thing I realized was how hoarse my voice was when I asked: “What are you doing to me?” 

“I’m kissing you,” Bliss teased.” 

I shook my head slightly at that. An obvious statement, but not quite what I had meant. 

“You are driving me nuts,” Bliss said plainly. 

“I’m driving you nuts?” I said, and the disbelief was dripping from my voice. “I refuse to believe that.” 

“You are,” Bliss said. “I don’t think you even know just how alluring you are.” 

I shook my head. “Stop it.” 

“Stop what? Telling the truth?” Bliss teased. 

I shook my head again. “What is it that you want to show me after the lesson?” 

“Nu-uh,” Bliss said and shook her own head. “You’ll just have to wait and see. But in the meantime-“ she leaned in once again. 

I willingly turned my own head to meet her lips once more, but then the door was opened, and Bliss and I immediately stumbled away from one another. 

“Well, well. Early birds gets the worm,” Griselda quipped as she dragged the chair into the room. “Good to see that you’re still with us, Mrs. Benson.” 

“I wouldn’t want to miss another lesson for the world,” I said truthfully. 

Griselda smiled at that, but so did Bliss. And her smile was a bit more beamingly. A bit more unbridled. 

Not long after Griselda had arrived, the other attenders started to show up. Gus smiled brightly at me and greeted me with his usual “brittie!” 

“Hello, Gus,” I said and smiled a little overbearingly. 

“Back for more?” he teased. 

I nearly flinched at his choice of words, but then I sobered up, and my voice sounded completely steady when I said: “well, deciding to skip these lessons was a bad idea in the first place.” 

“Damn right,” Alexandra said heartedly as she showed up on my left and sat down on her own chair. “And especially today when we’re working with watercolor.” 

I nodded and smiled. I liked working with watercolors. 

The room soon filled up, and Griselda barked her usual orders about how we didn’t have all that much time, so we better get a move on. 

Bliss disrobed and then sat down on the chair. She leaned back slightly, but she kept her legs firmly crossed.

I wasn’t naïve. I knew that there probably was a very particular reason why she chose to do that, and I could feel how a blush crept up my neck as I bowed my head over my sketch book and began todays work. 

She was looking at me again. Every time I looked up, her gaze was locked on me, but this time I wasn’t angry about it. In fact I could feel my heart thrum faster and faster in my chest, and this time around, I wasn’t particularly eager to look down at my sketchbook again. I preferred to look at her. To drink in the image of her. To examine every flawless part of her. How could anyone be so beautiful? 

My mouth felt slightly dry. Once again, our gazes locked, and I completely forgot the reason I was there. Everything became so insignificant as I looked at her. Her eyes, her smile, the way she had to push a lock of hair away from her face. 

“We’ve only got two hours, Mrs. Benson,” Griselda quietly said as she passed by my table. “Best getting started.” 

“Yes. Yes, of course,” I said and obediently bowed my head over the sketchbook. I could feel a flush creep up my neck, and once again, my heart was thrumming too fast in my chest as I finally continued todays work. My breathing was far too shallow as I added some detail to her smooth legs and then moved my pencil upwards to draw the curve of her hips, the planes of her flat stomach. That little shimmering gemstone in her belly button. My breath completely hitched when I started to shape the swell of her breasts, and I had to put the pencil down momentarily and take a sip from the glass of water standing on the table. I couldn’t concentrate. It felt as though my head was full of fog, and I didn’t dare looking at Bliss as I resumed my work a few seconds later....

*****************

By the end of the lesson, todays portrait wasn’t completely perfect, but for once, I didn’t care. For once, I was more interested in having this lesson end as soon as possible. It had been close to impossible to concentrate, and I could only feel relieved when Griselda concluded today’s lesson with a: “alright, painters! I’m afraid we’re out of time! I will see you next Tuesday.”

Everyone immediately started packing their belongings. So did it. But a little slower than usually. 

Gus and Alexandra chatted briskly, and every time Gus included me in the conversation, I had to try extra hard to concentrate on what he was saying. I was still completely focused on the way Bliss had smiled and mouthed “wait for me” right before she had headed into the other room to get dressed. 

I wanted to wait for her. But the thing was, Griselda had already left, and Alexandra Gus were heading for the door. If I didn’t do the same thing, people would notice, and I didn’t want that to happen. 

So finally, I headed towards the door and slowly walked down the little hall. Through the big windows, I could see Gus and Alexandra getting into their respective cars. 

I had just reached the door and was about to reach out to push it open, when I felt a warm hand on my wrist. I quickly turned around and found a smiling Bliss behind me. She had traded the white bathrobe for a light blue denim skirt, worn out pink converse shoes, and a black t-shirt with a faded Gun’s ‘n Roses logo. I smiled a little. Another mismatched outfit. But for some reason, she looked perfect in it. 

“Can I ask for a ride?” she asked cheekily, and her coffee colored eyes gleamed as we walked out on the parking lot.

“I think you just did,” I half-chuckled. “Any particular destination?”

“Burlington.” 

“You live there?” I asked. 

“Nope. I live in Charlotte.” 

“Then why Burlington?” I questioned and raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ll see,” she teased and gave my wrist a little squeeze as we strode towards my car. 

“Very well then,” I said. I didn’t mind engaging on this journey to a seemingly secret destination. 

We reached the car, and Bliss elegantly climbed into the passenger’s seat and folded her long legs. 

“Burlington?” I asked just to make sure. 

“Burlington,” she confirmed and grinned. 

I started the engine. “How did you get here today? Your car isn’t here.” 

“I took the bus,” Bliss said and shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh.” 

Suddenly, I wasn’t completely sure what to say. Suddenly, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that Bliss was sitting in my car and was currently fiddling with the hem of her skirt. The silence felt slightly awkward, and I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to it and asked: “do you mind if I switch the radio on?”

“No, not at all,” I said quickly, eager to fill the silence. “Go ahead.” 

“Thanks,” she said and flashed me a smile. Then she switched the radio on. Switched between the channels before she finally found a song that suited her. I didn’t know the song, but I still listened to it:

“I tried to fight the feeling

The feeling took me down

I struggled, and I lost the day

You knocked me out

Now everything's got meaning

And meanings bring me down

I'm watching as the screening

Of my life pans out...”

My mouth felt dry again. What a song. 

“It’s called “Nature’s Law”,” Bliss told me. “Do you know it?” 

“No,” I admitted.

“It’s a good song,” she said and smiled a little. 

“It is,” I agreed. 

“You should never fight your feelings,

When your very bones believe them.

You should never fight your feelings,

You have to follow nature’s law....”

Bliss absentmindedly sang along, and I tried to keep my eyes on the road and not on her as I drove towards Burlington. Which was hard. It was difficult to keep my attention on the road when she was in the car with me. Every so often, she would look up and smile a little, and every time she did that, it felt as though I had to take an extra deep breath. 

“You still won’t tell me where we’re going?” I asked as a new song started, and Bliss turned the volume down a nudge. 

“No,” Bliss half-laughed. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll be happy about it.” 

“If you say so,” I said lightly and chose to trust her completely. Which was completely atypical for me. I always questioned everything. At least that was what Lucas always said, and he was probably right. I was a suspicious nature. But clearly not when it came to Bliss. 

I tightened my grip on the wheel slightly. 

Our destination turned out to be “Art Gallery of Burlington”, and Bliss was grinning from ear to ear as she opened the car door, went around the car and then opened the door to the driver’s seat. 

“Come on,” she grinned. 

I couldn’t help but laugh as I obeyed and exited the car. We went towards the gallery, and Bliss was clearly in a hurry, because on the way across the parking lot, she took my hand and urged me to walk faster. 

I didn’t mind walking faster. Nor did I mind the hand she had slipped into mine. Her skin was so soft and warm, and I didn’t want to let go of her hand. 

And Bliss didn’t bother letting go as we reached the door. She simply pushed the door open with one hand, and then dragged me with her inside. 

“I think I’m beginning to understand what this is about,” I said and chuckled as she let me through the reception and a room full of ceramic work on display. 

“Clever girl,” Bliss teased, and her grip on my hand became somewhat looser as we reached another room. She didn’t let go, though. Instead she simply interlaced our fingers more properly as we looked around in this room with different paintings on display. 

“Close your eyes,” she suddenly urged. 

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Because I’m asking you to,” she said simply. 

I scoffed a little. 

“And because it adds to the dramatic effect,” she added. 

“Isn’t that a bit silly?” I asked before I could stop myself. 

“Only if you make it so,” Bliss replied and then gave my fingers a soft squeeze. “Go on, Ella. Close your eyes.” 

“Very well,” I said and closed my eyes. I felt silly but didn’t dare saying it out loud. 

Bliss guided me. And suddenly, I didn’t feel that silly anymore. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was her hand in mine. 

“Are we going far?” I teased. 

“No, not that far,” Bliss assured. “There’s a step. Be careful.”

I carefully took the step down. Bliss’ hand were on my elbow. Gently guiding me, and I wasn’t afraid of falling. Not even for a second. 

I could smell her perfume again. Her hair was tickling me. I felt too warm again. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all. Walking with my eyes closed. Her hand was so soft on my elbow. What are you doing to me? I silently asked her. What had happened to me? If I didn’t know any better, I would say that she had bewitched me. I had allowed myself to be bewitched by her. 

Blindly, I took another step and trusted her to guide me. 

And she did. My walk through the darkness came to a halt as Bliss stopped me and urged: “open your eyes.”

I opened my eyes and after having blinked twice, I found myself able to focus on the painting displayed on the wall in front of me. I smiled. Of course I had already known what the portrait was off, but it was still very special to see my portrait of Bliss displayed here. “Sitting model”, they had called the portrait. “Sitting model, painted by Ella Benson”. 

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Bliss said and smiled beamingly. “I reckoned you hadn’t been here to see it yet, and I figured that that was a huge mistake.” 

I chuckled a little. “You’re right. I hadn’t had the time to see it for myself.” 

“Then I’m glad we came here,” Bliss said and squeezed my fingers again. 

“They didn’t put your name in the text,” I pointed out. 

Bliss laughed. “It’s not about the model, Ella. It’s about you. You’re the painter.” 

“But still, they should have at least mentioned your name,” I said stubbornly. 

Bliss laughed again as she eyed the portrait on the wall. “There should be more.” 

“More what?” 

“More paintings with your name,” she said. “Why isn’t there?” 

“Because I’m not a fulltime painter,” I said and shrugged lightly. 

“You should be,” she said plainly. “You’re amazingly talented, Ella. Everyone can see that. You should be doing this on a professional basis.” 

I laughed a little. “Life didn’t turn out that way.” 

Bliss shook her head slightly. 

I found my phone in my pocket and quickly snapped a picture of the portrait. I wasn’t planning on showing it to anyone, but it was nice to have it saved in my phone. And it would be nice to look back at it and think of that time where I had a portrait displayed at a gallery. 

I looked up at the portrait once more and felt how sheer pride rushed through me and made me feel all warm. I turned my head to look at Bliss and smiled. “Thank you for taking me here.” 

“No problem,” Bliss said and shifted slightly. “I just thought you should see it before they take it down again.” 

“It was sweet of you to think of it,” I said. 

She returned my smile. “So... Am I being awful for hoping that you’ll give me a ride home?” 

“Not at all,” I chuckled. “I’d be happy to drive you home.” 

“Great,” Bliss said. “But why don’t we explore a bit first? It would be rude of me to drag the artist away from all the paintings right away.” And then she was taking my hand again. 

More than willingly, I followed her around in the art gallery, and both of us laughed as we exchanged opinions about the different paintings displayed on the wall. And then I flushed when she declared that my painting was the best one on the entire exhibition. I immediately denied it, but Bliss wouldn’t hear of it. She claimed that “Nothing and nobody” could change her opinion, and she brushed every attempt at denial away. 

I shook my head and told her that she was biased. And she laughed and claimed that she saw things perfectly clearly. 

She didn’t let go of my hand as we ventured around in the gallery, and everything about it felt completely natural. Shockingly natural. A little voice in the back of my mind kept telling me that it shouldn’t feel this natural, but for some reason, I found myself more than capable of ignoring that little voice. Today I wasn’t willing to listen to that little voice. 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Bliss said as we stood and looked at a rather abstract picture. “I’m thinking we should go back and look at your painting instead.” 

“We’ve already seen it two times,” I pointed out and laughed a little.

“So? It’s the only thing worth looking at in here,” Bliss claimed. 

I shook my head. 

“It is,” she said stubbornly. 

I didn’t comment on that. Instead I said: “it only turned out that well because of the model.” 

“Bull.” Bliss said plainly. “You could paint just about anything, and it would still look amazing.” 

“You flatter me.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed and smirked. “But I never use false flatter.” 

I laughed. And then I allowed her to lead me back to my portrait. Our portrait. 

We ended up lingering there for a while, and Bliss tilted her head slightly as she examined the portrait thoroughly. She grinned broadly as she concluded: “my hair was a mess that day.” 

“It was not,” I denied. “Your hair is lovely.” 

“But a mess.” 

I chuckled a bit. “It’s challenging to paint, I’ll give you that, but I’ve always loved a challenge. And to be honest, I can’t imagine your hair any other way.” 

“Me neither,” Bliss said and touched her long, untamed curls. 

I caught myself being tempted to do the same thing. Run my fingers through her hair just once. Or kiss her again. Just once. 

After having spent far too long time at the art gallery, I took Bliss home. We drove the short distance to Charlotte in comfortable silence, and as I parked the car in front of a house on Lake Road, I looked at what Bliss had named to be her home. The house reminded me a little of Allison’s large country home, only this was smaller. More cozy. 

“That looks very nice,” I smiled. 

“I rent the place from one of my aunt’s friends,” Bliss said. “She kept saying that this was the perfect place to get some peace and quiet.” 

“He was right,” I said. As opposed to where I lived, Bliss didn’t have any neighbors close by. I couldn’t imagine what that had to be like. I was almost envious of her. 

“Would you like to come inside?” Bliss offered. “I could make you a cup of tea or something...” 

“A cup of tea sounds nice,” I said. 

“Great,” she smiled. 

We exited the car, and Bliss fumbled for a moment before finding her keys in the seemingly deep pocket on her skirt. She unlocked the door and opened it with a silly, grand gesture. 

“Welcome to my humble house,” she announced as we walked into the hallway. 

I chuckled slightly at that. 

She let me into the living room, and I immediately liked it. I liked the oversized furniture’s and the whimsical wallpaper with flower prints. I liked the large windows and the ridiculous green curtains that for some reason fitted the place just right. I liked the impractical, long haired carpet on the floor. My high heels completely sank into it. This was definitely a place where you kicked your shoes off and made yourself at home. 

I liked the coffee table that seemed to have been made out of driftwood, and I liked the old, tattered leather sofa. Nothing matched, but yet everything was completely right. Bliss encouraged me to sit   
down and “make myself at home”, and so I did. The old sofa made a slight squeaking noise as I sat down, and it didn’t catch me by surprise. I think I would have been more disappointed if it hadn’t made a sound. I ran a hand over one of the large pillows. Pink pillows that didn’t fit the place at all, but somehow still looked completely right. 

“You have a very nice place here,” I said. 

“Thanks,” she said. “I like making myself at home. The wallpaper was my idea.” 

“Of course it was,” I chuckled, and then my gaze landed on the very professional and very vintage looking camera lying on the coffee table. I didn’t know very much about cameras, but I could see that this model happened to be a Leica, and I could also see that this wasn’t just any old camera. 

“’Fairly decent with a camera?’” I said and echoed her words as I raised an eyebrow. 

Bliss shrugged lightly. “I inherited the camera. That’s all.” 

“It’s a nice camera,” I said. 

“And it’s very good too,” she added, and her gaze lingered on me. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things. And beautiful people.” 

I just shook my head as a reply. 

Bliss announced that she would head into the kitchen to make the tea, and I was left alone in her living room. As I sat there on her leather sofa, the wheels in my head started turning, and reality reared its head in a most ugly manner. 

What was I doing? Bliss was barely out of college, and here I was, thinking all sorts of things about her. 

She’s twenty years younger than me. I had no business kissing her. Or thinking of her. Or even being here. 

I rose from the couch and went over to the window. Once again, I questioned my sanity. Once again, I debated whether I was living in a dream world. Perhaps I wasn’t seeing things all that clearly after all. 

Perhaps I was really in some sort of trance. 

I wiped invisible dust off the bottom of my dress and sighed gravely as the lovely afternoon I had just spend with Bliss turned into something ugly and forbidden. Something I shouldn’t have done. Something that shouldn’t have happened. 

I felt so torn. I knew that the right thing, the correct thing would be to leave Bliss’ house and drive back to Shelburne. 

But.... Being here felt right. If going home was oh, so right, then why didn’t I want to leave? Why did I want to stay here and extend the lovely afternoon we had just shared? Why did I fight against the part of me that kept informing me that I shouldn’t be here, and what I was doing was actually wrong? 

I found no answers as I looked out of the window. 

I sighed again. I was definitely in too deep. Far, far too deep. Perhaps I should just leave. Before I dig myself in deeper. 

I rolled my shoulders slightly. My back was going stiff. Most likely because I was worrying. Whenever I was worried, my back always ended up paying the price. Perhaps I would have to take a pill for it when I got back. As I tried to banish the tension before it could really settle in my back, I spotted Bliss’ ragged denim jacket. It had been slung over a chair, and that made me smile, because I could see her shrug the jacket off as she stumbled out of the door. She had probably been in a hurry when she left the jacket there. 

I ran a hand through my hair as I once again considered what I was actually doing here? What gives me the right to be here? Aren’t I just some middle aged woman bored out of my mind? Why does she want me here? It doesn’t make any sense. I should leave. I should get into my car and just-

“Ella?” 

Without my knowledge, Bliss had come into the room, and now she was standing right behind me. 

“Why me?” I asked without turning around. 

“What?” 

I took a breath. “You’re young and you’re beautiful and you could have whoever you want... So why me?” 

I heard two faint clattering sounds, and I quickly identified the sound as two cups being sat down on the coffee table. Then a soft, warm touched my arm. 

“Because you’re wonderful,” Bliss said gently. 

I scoffed slightly. 

“And because you’re beautiful,” she added. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are. And it upsets me how unaware you are of it,” she said plainly. 

“Stop it.” 

“I will not,” she said firmly. 

I sighed deeply. Tried not to be distracted by the warm hand still resting on my arm. “I don’t know what this is,” I said. 

“Does it need a label?” Bliss asked gently. 

I shook my head, ignoring it. “I don’t know what this is about.” 

“This is about us, having spent a wonderful afternoon together,” Bliss said plainly. 

“But what does it mean?” I asked, now slightly exasperated. “I’m... I’m confused, Bliss. You make me feel things... I haven’t felt in a long time, and I don’t know what to make of those things. I feel like... I feel like I cannot recognize myself anymore.” 

“Alright. And who were you then? Before me?” Bliss asked. 

“A wife. A mother,” I said quickly. Those were the two things I had identified myself as for a long time now. 

“No,” Bliss said, and her fingers wrapped around my elbow as she gently spun me around. “That’s what you are to somebody. Who are you, Ella? Not Ella the wife, or Ella the mother. Just Ella. Who is she?” 

“I-“ I couldn’t finish the sentence. Because I had no idea how to give a satisfying answer to that question. Yes, I was a wife, and yes, I was a mother, but apart from that, who was I? Who was I really? Did I even know? Had I lost my own identity somewhere along the way? I swallowed something and shook my head slightly. Who IS Ella? I had poured so much of my identity into being a wife and a mother that I no longer remembered who I had been once. I wetted my lips. I felt as though there was a huge knot in my stomach. 

Bliss moved her hand up and cupped my cheek lightly. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I just say stuff without really thinking about it. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

I flashed her a little smile and settled for asking: “why do we always want the things we cannot have?” 

“Because we’re humans,” Bliss said plainly. 

I gently peeled her hand away from my cheek. “I should leave,” I said. 

“Really?” Bliss asked disappointed. 

“Yes. I think that’s for the best.” 

“What about your tea?” she asked. 

“Perhaps another time,” I said as I moved away from her and headed towards the door. 

“Why does this feel like I won’t see you again?” she asked, and I heard the floorboards creak as though she was following me. 

“I have to leave,” I said again. Just that. Nothing more. 

“Come back,” Bliss said quietly. 

I immediately understood that she wasn’t begging me to stay. She was asking me to come back another time. 

But I didn’t want to make that promise here and now. I couldn’t. I feared what would happen if I did.

I left Bliss’ house without looking back, and I chose to ignore the tightening sensation in my chest as I did so.


	18. Chapter 18

A few days went by and I struggled. 

I felt down and depressed, but most of all I felt conflicted. 

There were some mornings were I woke up, furious with myself because I had left Bliss’ house, and in my mind, I was jumping into the car to drive back right away. 

And then there were some mornings where I woke up and felt that going home had been the right thing to do. The only thing to do. 

But if it really was so goddamn right, why did I wake up with a tight feeling in my chest and the feeling of having an enormous lump in my throat? 

I was stuck between on the one hand thinking that I was being completely silly, and on the other hand thinking that what I was feeling wasn’t silly. 

But realizing that my feelings were valid didn’t really help the matter. Valid or not, I was yearning after something I couldn’t have. I wanted things that were forbidden. 

Some mornings I reached for my phone as the first thing and started typing a long message to Bliss, only to realize that I was in the process of breaking the promise I had made to myself. No more texting. I kept changing my mind about what I wanted, kept asking myself deep questions, and I knew that I couldn’t start questioning everything. I had responsibilities, for god’s sake. I was married. I had to stop acting so irresponsible. At least that was what I sternly told myself when I laid awake at night and thought of things I absolutely couldn’t think about. 

No, I had to pull myself together. And in order to do that, I would have to stop texting Bliss. It was time to “wake up” and face reality. 

And reality was that I was married and had been for twenty one years. Stephen and I had a son. We had shaped a life together. Was I really willing to throw that away because of a... fling? An infatuation? 

No. No, of course not. Stupid nonsense. I had been contend with the life I’ve had with Stephen for twenty one years now. 

Or had I? 

No, I hadn’t. I had to stop lying to myself. Lately, I had been yearning for something else. Something I couldn’t quite name. 

Was Bliss this something else? Was she what I had been yearning for all this time? Or was I simply so confused I didn’t know what to think or do anymore? 

Everything was piling up in my head, and I found it increasingly harder to put a smile on for Lucas. Stephen wasn’t here. He was still in Los Angeles, he wouldn’t be back before in two weeks, and I hated myself for feeling relieved. 

More than anything, I needed to talk to Delia, but this wasn’t just something I could talk about over the phone, and I knew that her schedule was tight until she would be coming to Vermont in next week. I was looking forward to seeing my best friend and talk about all of this. I knew I could tell Delia anything. She wouldn’t judge me. She never did. 

But perhaps I was judging myself. How could I not? After all, I had gone and become interested in a woman who was twenty years younger than myself. Twenty years younger. A woman. 

I was judging myself because I knew what it looked like to other people. A middle aged woman, bored with her life, starts something with someone much younger just to feel that thrill again. 

I was pathetic. I was stupid. 

And I couldn’t stop thinking about Bliss. She kept waltzing into my mind every so often. Mainly at night where I was supposed to be asleep. But thanks to my imagination, sleep was the furthest thing on my mind when I laid in my bed. Instead I would think and think, and more often than not, those thought let to a particular, tight feeling between my thighs. And that feeling often lead to my hand slipping under the covers while I covered my mouth with my other hand, desperately trying to muffle the sounds escaping me. Lately, the desire to touch myself had been close to non-existing, and the few times I had felt aroused, I had been able to sleep from it. 

But now I had to touch myself. And my mind spilled over with thoughts about Bliss as I did so. 

It was the same pattern every time. First, I felt light. Almost euphoric. And then I returned to earth and felt both ashamed and angry at myself. Angry that I once again had succumbed to carnal desire. And angry because I once again was breaking the “rules”. The rules about not thinking about Bliss. That touching myself while thinking about her did not categorize as trying to go back to my old life. 

Old life. Old life. What did that even mean? Since when had I started to think of this as before and after? Before and after Bliss. No. There was no old and new life. There wasn’t a difference. There was just me, making a mess of things.

I remembered what I had told Bliss. Whatever this is or was, it’s got to stop, and it’s got to stop now. I had to take my own advice and somehow make it stop. I had to stop thinking about Bliss, and I had to stop yearning after her. 

There was just one problem: 

I had no idea how. I had no idea how I was supposed to banish her from my mind.

As the weekend approached, I was beginning to fear the next art lesson, and even more so than I had done the previous time. How was I supposed to face her now? 

I couldn’t. Once again, I would have to stay away from the art lesson. Once again, I would have to deny myself something I loved doing because I had made a mistake. Another mistake. That seemed to be the theme these days. 

I sighed gravely as I saved the eggs I had fried for Lucas. I couldn’t ruin his breakfast too. That would ruin his morning, and there was no reason why that should happen. It was bad enough that my morning was ruined. Thanks to the sleepless night I’d just endured, I was exhausted, and my mood was suffering under it too. 

“Lucas!” I called up the stairs as I saved the bacon and put it on the plate. “Breakfast’s ready!” 

“I’m coming!” he called back. 

I sat the plate on the table and then poured myself a cup of tea. I was definitely not hungry. In fact my appetite hadn’t been too good for this past week. I knew the reason why that was, but I had decided to firmly ignore it. 

I sipped my tea, but I couldn’t hear my son coming down the stairs, so I lowered the teacup and called again: “Lucas! Now!” 

“I’m coming!” he called, now sounding somewhat more indignant.

I cringed and immediately felt guilty. I shouldn’t take my bad mood out on him. This was not his fault. I had to remember that. 

I sat down at the table with my cup of tea and thought about what I would do today. Tidy up the house. Do a bit of gardening. Potentially wash the windows. And then what? None of those things were something that strictly had to be done today. 

I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to drive to Charlotte and see Bliss. But that was not an option. That was definitely not an option. I would have to think of something else. 

I just wasn’t completely sure what that something else was gonna be. 

“Lucas! Breakfast!” I called again, but this time I made sure to make my voice sound gentler. More patient. 

“Be right there!” 

I didn’t bother shouting for him again. Instead I took another sip of my tea. My fingers were itching to text Bliss. Just to say good morning. Just to say something. 

I missed her. 

I missed her so much it almost hurt, and I was desperate to get another afternoon like the one we’d had at the art gallery. It had been wonderful in every way, and forbidden or not, it had made me feel happy. 

But then I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to miss her. I wasn’t supposed to think about her. Not even a little bit. It was wrong of me. 

Sighing, I took another sip of my tea. Somehow, I would have to drag myself through this day. It was only 07:15, and I was already exhausted. Quite possibly because I’ve had all sorts of dreams last night. 

I would have to ensure that today was gonna be productive. The last thing I needed was to daydream. It was bad enough that I was dreaming at night. 

Finally, I heard the familiar thud as Lucas came down the stairs. I hoped that his eggs were still warm. I smiled at him as he sat down, and the gesture felt so unfamiliar, I could almost hear my facial muscles creak in protest. 

“Morning, mum,” he said and returned my smile. Then he dug into his eggs and bacon.

“Good morning, honey,” I said and took another sip of my tea. “Are the eggs still warm?” 

“Mmph, yeah, they’re fine,” he said through an enormous mouthful. 

“That’s good to hear,” I said and chuckled quietly. 

He ate his food with vigor, and I wished that I could do the same, but I wasn’t one bit hungry. In fact the mere thought of food made my stomach clench painfully. It would appear that nausea was a general state now. 

I just wanted to go back to bed and sleep this day away. And the next one. And then the next one. 

How had I let it get this far? How had I let myself get this far? I never should have gone back to the art lessons. I never should have let Bliss take me to the art gallery. I never should have visited her. 

‘I never should have’. That seemed like a general state too. My life was overflowing with mistakes and regrets. 

But acknowledging the biggest regret was tough. I never should have left Bliss’ house. I should have stayed there. 

I instantly balked. Oh, don’t you DARE wishing for that. Your whole life is right here, remember? 

“Mum?” 

I quickly looked up. “Yes, sweetie?” 

He winced slightly at the pet name, looked as though he was just about to remind me not to call him that, but then he sobered up and asked: “are you sick?” 

“Sick?” I echoed and frowned slightly. “No, I’m fine. Why would you think that I’m sick?” 

“You just look a bit... Pale,” he said half-heartedly, and I was ninety nine percent sure that he wasn’t actually referring to how pale I seemingly was. It was more likely that he was talking about the bags underneath my eyes but was too polite to actually address the issue. 

“Oh. Well, I’m fine,” I assured and did my best to smile. My facial muscles creaked again. 

“Cool. Can I hang out with Trevor this weekend?” he asked. 

“A sleepover?” I asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed, and then, hopefully: “from Friday to Sunday?” 

I felt horrible for wanting to say yes right away. Because if I said yes, I wouldn’t have to worry about him noticing that I wasn’t my normal self. I wanted him out of the house for very selfish reasons, and that was so very wrong of me. 

“We’ll see. It depends on how much homework your teacher will give you for the weekend,” I said and congratulated myself with the fact that I was sounding every bit like Lucas’ normal, boring mother. 

“Alright,” he said and scowled slightly. 

“You better finish your breakfast now,” I said and ignored his tone. “Otherwise you’ll end up being late for school.” 

“Right,” he said and turned his attention back to his bacon and eggs. But he wasn’t eating with as much enthusiasm as before. 

My stomach tied into a knot again. I should have said yes right away and spared myself his scowling attitude. But I was paranoid enough to believe that it would make him wonder if I caved in too quickly. I was afraid that he would notice and soon find out that I wasn’t acting normally. That something was wrong. 

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, but I absolutely couldn’t tell my son what the problem was. 

I resumed my tea sipping. Now I understood why people claimed that having a secret felt like being eaten up from the inside. I felt like I was being stretched so thin, I would snap apart one of these days. That the elastic would burst, and everything would pour right out of me. 

When I turned my attention away from the teacup cradled in my hand, I noticed that Lucas was looking at me. It was very possible that he had heard me sigh a moment ago, or perhaps he had already deduced that something was going on, and now he was watching me silently. Either way, I wouldn’t have that, and I quickly flashed him a reassuring smile. I’m fine. Everything is fine. 

I’m a liar. A horrible, cheating liar. 

I swallowed something, downed the rest of my tea and did my best to resume my “Annoying mum”-mode. “Now move it, Lucas. The bus will be here soon, and you don’t want to walk to school, do you?” 

He looked out of the window once and cringed. “No,” he said firmly. 

I couldn’t blame him. The sky was dark. Not exactly the best day for a run, but I didn’t care about that. I needed to go for a run. More than I needed to breathe.

I should have stayed in. 

By the time I returned from my run, I was soaked to the skin. My hair was dripping, my mascara was swiftly going south, and my sneakers were full of water. 

When I had left an hour earlier, I had cockily assumed that I could easily beat the rain. I couldn’t. Instead I had successfully gotten caught in a massive downpour. And the result was this. Wet hair and clothes that was sticking to my skin. 

And had it been worth it? No, not really. My head certainly didn’t feel much clearer from when I had left the house. 

I cringed as I toed off my running shoes. My socks were soaked, and I quickly peeled them off. I wasn’t interested in leaving wet footsteps all the way up the stairs and into the bathroom. Cleaning was not on my schedule today. 

I could feel my mood getting increasingly worse as I made my way upstairs. I locked the bathroom door out of habit, which was a bit silly, seeing that I was the only one home. 

The only one indeed. The house suddenly felt too big and empty. 

In an attempt to lighten my mood, I switched the tap on and began to peel my wet clothes as the bathtub slowly filled. I had definitely deserved a good long soak in the bathtub. 

Once ridded of the clothes, I dumped the lot in the laundry basket. Then I carefully removed the smudges of mascara from my cheeks and cringed slightly as I did so. I looked like a drowned panda. It was very fortunate that I hadn’t met anyone on my run. I would have hated if someone saw me like this. 

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Just as I could throw the stained wipes into the bin, the tub was satisfyingly filled. 

A little sigh of pure relief escaped me as I lowered myself into the tub. The warm water felt nice and soothing for my aching muscles. Perhaps this was how I should have spent my morning instead of going for a run. Yes, perhaps the exercise was good for me, and yes, perhaps it made my stomach flatter and my legs more toned, but apart from that, it hadn’t been worth it. My thoughts were still spiraling out of control. 

I tipped my head back and tried to focus on relaxing different parts of my body, but it didn’t take long before my thoughts started to wander. To her. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about Bliss. About the wonderful afternoon we’d shared. And the way we had kissed each other. How good it had felt. How I had been disappointed when the rest of the other art students had arrived and interrupted us. I had wanted that kiss to continue. And continue. God, she had been so close to me! I could still remember how I had been able to feel her warmth through the thin bathrobe. There were so many things I had wanted to do to at that moment. One of them being untying the bathrobe and pushing it off her. I had wanted to feel her body. To see it for myself and not share it with a room full of art students. I thought about how it would be to touch her. To trail my fingers over the flat planes of her stomach. Touch her smooth thighs. Tap my fingertips against the little gemstone in her belly button. 

Would she be soft to touch? Yes, of course she would. I already instinctively knew that she would, and now I felt like I was going crazy because I wanted to feel it for myself. I wanted to confirm my suspicion. It was strange, really. I had never had thoughts about another woman. Not until now. I didn’t quite understand what was happening to me. Where did all these thoughts suddenly come from? 

Something warm sizzled down my spine, and it didn’t take long before the sizzling sensation evolved and turned into a distinct pressure between my legs. I sighed quietly as I ran a couple of fingers through my wet hair. Thinking about Bliss was a mistake in every way. My thoughts briefly wandered to the vibrator lying abandoned in a box and collecting dust somewhere in the very back of the closet, but I quickly abandoned that idea. Thinking about Bliss was a mistake on my part. And not getting release served me bloody well. A well-deserved punishment for thinking about things I had no business thinking about. 

Pull yourself together, Ella, I scolded myself. Perhaps this soak in the tub had been a bad idea after all. It certainly was if it only prompted me to think about forbidden things. Perhaps it was time to wash my hair and then get out of this tub. 

To do what, exactly? Watch more Downtown Abbey? Clean something that doesn’t really need to be cleaned? No. No, I would have to think of something better. Like... Sketching. Yes. I could sketch. Now that was a fairly good idea. As long as I didn’t sketch....

I grimaced as I reached for the bottle of shampoo. I would just have to sketch a different motive. That was all there was to it. 

I quickly began shampooing my hair. I didn’t really want to leave the bathtub already but staying here seemed like a dangerous thing to do. 

As I washed my hair, I decided to quit moping around once and for all. And I was determined to be productive this weekend instead of just sitting around and overthinking everything. I had grocery supplies to buy, other errands to run. I had a dress I needed to take to the dry cleaners, and there was a light bulb in the living room that needed changing. I had plenty of things to do. I really didn’t have the time to just sit around. Perhaps I would even swing by the local fitness center. Variating my exercise certainly couldn’t do any harm, could it? 

And then perhaps I would give Lucas permission to stay over at Trevor’s. I laughed quietly to myself as I rinsed out my hair and then pushed myself up from the bathtub. 

But sometimes things doesn’t go according to the plan. 

It started out well enough. 

That Friday, I did indeed give Lucas my permission to spend the weekend at Trevor’s. My son was delighted and had little qualms about leaving me alone for the weekend. 

And I had no qualms about being alone. After all, I had planned my entire weekend beforehand. I knew exactly what my plans. 

So, that Friday, I kicked off my weekend plans by taking my dress to the dry cleaners. Once I had dropped it off, I made a mental note to myself about picking it up the following Monday. 

When I got home, I “isolated” myself in my little art studio for a few hours, and I actually ended up sketching a fairly decent portrait. A landscape portrait. I was very much done drawing people. While sketching, I listened to a concert with Mozart that made it quite impossible to think about anything besides the music, and when I was done sketching, my brain was delightfully empty. My little plan had worked. 

Afterwards, I settled down in front of the laptop and googled the nearest fitness center. The prospect of signing myself up for it was very daunting, and I tried not to think too much of whether it was the midlife crisis that bade me to do it, or if I was really doing it simply because I wanted to. I was done overthinking. Overthinking only lead to disasters, I had decided. 

I ended up getting back in the car and then drive to the fitness center. The pictures displayed on their website was nice and all, but it was probably better to see the center with my own eyes. That way, it would be easier to gauge who the people working out there were. If it was only body builder types, it probably wasn’t the right place for me. 

It wasn’t though. I saw people in all shapes and sizes there. Some younger than I, some older, and some who were around my age. The place looked very nice. Clean and hygienic, and packed with various fitness equipment’s. Perhaps this wasn’t a half-bad idea after all. 

It didn’t take long before one of the employee’s “found” me, and I couldn’t very well say that I was just “browsing”, so I ended up saying that I might be interested in a membership. The young man immediately flashed me a beaming smile and started telling me all about the various fitness programs and equipment’s. I listened with genuine interest. I could easily see myself coming here once or twice a week to work out. 

The young man was so convincing I ended up agreeing to having some information send to me via email. Then I thanked him and told him that I would seriously consider to sign up. 

I had spent more time in the fitness center than I had intended to, so I ended up postponing the trip to the grocery store until the next day. 

But when I woke up that Saturday and looked out of the window, it was pouring down once more. My desire to go outside wasn’t very big. I ended up dawdling for a few hours. Spend longer than what was required on making and eating my breakfast. Then I rinsed off everything in the sink instead of just putting it in the dishwasher. I listened to a podcast while I pottered around in the kitchen and tidied up the place. Once that was taken care off, I settled down by the kitchen table with my sketchbook. The landscape picture could still need a bit of polishing around the edges. 

But once I had worked on the picture for a few hours, and done some other chores in the house, I couldn’t very well put it off anymore. The grocery store would be closing soon. It was still raining, but hopefully there would be a break in the rain by the time I reached the grocery store. 

So, I went back upstairs and changed into something that was a bit nicer than my yoga pants. I traded the tanktop for a neat blouse, and then I brushed my hair once, tying it back in a tight ponytail. I was done letting my hair down. In every sense of the word. 

I applied a bit of makeup. Just a bit of mascara, just to look a little bit more awake, and then I left the bedroom without wasting too much time on studying my reflection. Vanity could very well wait until another day. 

**************

The rain didn’t stop. 

By the time I reached the grocery store, it was still pouring down, and I wasn’t very eager to repeat yesterday’s performance. I stayed in the car. Took the opportunity to check my phone. Deleted old messages I had no use for anymore. When I reached the messages from Bliss, I stalled though. I couldn’t quite bring myself to delete them. I knew it was dumb to hang on to those messages but deleting them seemed completely inhuman. 

Forget about the messages, I should delete Bliss’ number all together.

No. I couldn’t do that either. And I didn’t know why. I hadn’t texted Bliss in a week now. Why hang on to her number? It didn’t make any sense. 

I swiped a finger over the screen and the little “delete contact?” sign became visible on the screen, but I still couldn’t bring myself to actually do it. The thought of it made my chest ache in a certain way. It had ached a lot like that lately. 

I was still holding the phone in my hand, so I jumped a little when it started to vibrate. For a moment I thought that it was her, but it wasn’t. It was my husband. 

“Hello,” I said as I answered the phone. 

“Ella, my dear,” came Stephen’s usual greeting. 

“You found a break in all the meetings,” I said and suddenly noted that I hadn’t heard from my husband in a couple of days. Why hadn’t he called me until now? And, more importantly, why hadn’t I noticed that he hadn’t called me? I felt guilty again. 

“Would it be possible for you to go upstairs and-“ 

“I’m afraid I can’t right now,” I quickly interrupted. “I’m not at home. I’m out shopping for groceries.” 

“Oh,” Stephen said and sounded a little annoyed. 

“How are the meetings going?” I asked.

But that was the wrong question to ask. He immediately began complaining. None of his colleagues knew how to do their jobs. He was the only one who had brought the correct papers. Well, except for....

“I really needed you to find that briefcase,” Stephen half-chided. “There’s a very important paper in it.” 

“Well, I’m not home right now,” I said, determined to keep my voice light, even though I could feel that tickle of annoyance. “But I’ll find it when I get back.” 

“It’ll be too late then,” Stephen said. Now he sounded like he was scolding me. 

I bit back a sharp remark.

“Have you spoken to Carla?” 

“Who?” I asked and frowned. 

“Rasmussen’s wife, Ella,” Stephen half-snapped. 

I raised an eyebrow at his sharp tone, and my voice was somewhat frostily when I answered: “no, I have not. Why would I have? I thought you fired Rasmussen.” 

“I decided to let him go,” Stephen corrected, and I rolled my eyes. What difference did it make? Fired or “let go”. It meant the same. That my husband had fired a man who had been with the company for longer than Stephen and I had been married. 

“Either way,” Stephen continued. “Carla Rasmussen might call you this weekend or the next week.” 

“Why?” I asked plainly and frowned. Frederick Rasmussen had been my husband’s co-worker. I’ve had very limited contact with him so far, and I had only met his wife once. 

“Because I’ve invited them over for dinner when I get back from Los Angeles.” 

“Why?” I asked again. This didn’t make any sense. 

Stephen sighed in the other end. “Because I need to make sure that Rasmussen keeps quiet.” 

“About what?” I asked and frowned. 

“He’s been... suggesting that I’ve forged some numbers,” Stephen said. “I’ve heard it from Jenkins. Right now, it’s only gossip, but I’d like to put a stop to it before the word spreads.” He laughed bitterly. “I hadn’t expected Rasmussen to sink so low, but I suppose he’s just bitter that I decided to let him go.” 

And who can blame him, I thought to myself. Rumors or no rumors, Rasmussen had been a part of Benson Inc for over twenty five years. I was still flabbergasted that Stephen had just fired him. Without even thanking the poor man for his hard work for the company. 

“Ella?” Stephen said in the other end, and he didn’t sound very patient. “Ella, are you still there?” 

“So you decided to just invite them over for dinner?” I asked slowly and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Wouldn’t it be possible to have that dinner at a restaurant or something like that?” 

“I believe it looks better if we have the dinner in our house,” Stephen said immediately. 

I could see what he meant, but nevertheless...

“I would have appreciated it if you had discussed this with me before inviting them,” I said, gathering every ounce of patience I had. 

“Surely, you can see why this is important, Ella,” Stephen said. 

“I can,” I said. “But since I’ll be the one cooking for this dinner, I would have liked to be informed about it a little sooner.” 

He sighed in the other end. “How can this possibly be a problem for you?” 

“It’s a problem when you agree to things that involves me without asking me,” I said. 

Another sigh in the other end. “Very well. I’ll cancel the dinner then.” 

“That’s not what I said,” I protested. “I just said that it would have been nice if you had told me. That’s all. I’ve could have made plans or something.” I don’t know where I got it from. 

“Have you?” He asked, and I could hear confusion seep through his voice. “Where are you going?” 

I pinched the bridge of my nose again. “I’m not going anywhere, I was simply trying to make a point.” 

There was a slight pause, and then Stephen said: “Well, if it’s that much of a problem, I’ll just cancel the dinner.” 

“That’s not what I said!” I half-snapped. I could feel the annoyance boil and threaten to spill over. “I just wish you’d told me, that’s all!” 

“I’m telling you now!” Stephen said, and he was definitely getting annoyed. “Really, Ella, why is this such a problem for you?” 

I didn’t care one bit for his tone, and I could feel my temper flaring up within me. “Right now, my only problem is the tone you’re taking with me,” I said slowly. 

“I am not taking any tone with you,” he denied. “I just don’t understand why you’re making a fuss over nothing!” 

“I don’t think you would appreciate it very much if I had gone and made plans on your behalf,” I said and tried to maintain my patient attitude.

“Kindly do not patronize me, Ella,” Stephen snapped in the other end. 

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “I was not trying to patronize you,” I said slowly. “I was trying to make you see things from my point of view.” 

“I understand things perfectly,” he said coldly. “You’re dissatisfied with me. Again.” 

“What do you mean again?” I asked. 

“Oh, please,” Stephen said. “You’ve been very clear about how you feel about me firing Rasmussen!” 

I took another deep breath, trying to wrap my head around the turn our conversation had taken. “I don’t think I’ve ever said anything about that, Stephen.” 

“Perhaps not directly, but I can hear it in your voice,” he said. 

It had to be his guilty conscience talking. He had to feel bad about how he had handled things with Rasmussen. Otherwise he would never had thrown this at me at random. 

“I think perhaps you’re overtired,” I said and clenched my jaw. “Don’t you think it would be better to get some sleep?” 

“Ella, do not patronize me!” 

“I am not patronizing you! Don’t take that tone with me!” I said, now finally losing my temper. 

“I’m not taking any tone with you!” 

“Yes, you are! And right now you’re attacking me for no reason!” I bellowed. “I don’t think that’s fair!” 

“I’m not attacking you, I’m just wondering why you suddenly have a problem with having a few people over for dinner!” 

“I’m not having a problem with that at all!” I hissed. “But I do have a problem with you agreeing to plans that involves both of us without even asking me! I’m the one who’s gonna cook!”

“Fine! We’ll just cancel it!” 

“I’m not asking you to cancel anything, I’m just asking you to mention it to me the next time!” 

He didn’t seem to hear that. “I’ll inform them that it didn’t quite meet my wife’s busy schedule.” 

I completely saw red at that. “Take them to a restaurant, for god’s sake! In case you haven’t noticed, there are plenty of restaurants nearby! Rustic Roots, for instance! You know, the restaurant where I waited for you on the night you forgot our anniversary!” 

And where did that come from? I had no idea. I just knew that I was very angry and very bitter at the moment, and so my brain chose to come up with all sorts of unpleasantries. 

“I see,” Stephen said frostily. “So that’s what this is about.” 

“No, the only thing this is about is how you’re attacking me and demanding stuff from me instead of asking me how I’m doing! How our son is doing! I haven’t heard from you for five days, and you haven’t even asked about Lucas! He’s your son too, but perhaps you had forgotten that as well?!” 

“What exactly are you implying right now?” Stephen snarled. 

“I’m not implying, I’m saying that you don’t pay enough attention to your son! Unless it has something to do with his school!” 

“That’s a lie,” Stephen said, his voice tight with barely concealed anger. He was most likely in his office. That had to be the reason why he was trying to mask his anger. 

“Is it though? Then when’s the last time you’ve asked him how he’s doing? Or me, for that matter? How do you think I’m doing, Stephen? Do you think I like being your punching bag whenever you have a hard day at work?!” 

He too saw red at that, and soon the denial oozed from him in such a manner that meant that I had to put some distance between the phone and my ear. It wasn’t very often Stephen lost his temper like this, but when he did, he really did. 

But I refused to sit here and listen while he blamed everyone around him. Including me. 

“I don’t want to talk to you when you’re acting like this. Goodbye,” I said shortly. And then I ended the call and hung up. 

As I slid the phone back in my purse, I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened. Stephen and I had argued. No, not just argued. This hadn’t just been a discussion. This had been us,   
shouting at each other. Stephen and I didn’t do that. We didn’t shout at each other. We hadn’t for years. And what had the argument even been about? I wasn’t completely sure. Nor was I sure why it affected me so much. I shouldn’t be sitting here with tears streaming down my face because of it. I hadn’t been involved in a disaster. I had simply had a row with my husband. It wasn’t that bad. 

Yet here I was, with tears trickling down my cheeks, and I couldn’t even excuse them with being tears of frustration. No, this was definitely a reaction of what had just occurred. 

But why? The argument had been ridiculous. A minor disagreement. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with an apology and a few sweet words. 

But deep down I knew that my reaction perhaps wasn’t only because of the row. It was some of the frustration that had finally bubbled over.

I wiped the tears away from my cheeks and tried to save my mascara before I ended up ruining it completely. I didn’t want to look like a mess. 

I was still attempting to get myself cleaned up a bit when I could hear the phone going off somewhere inside my purse. Reminding myself that it could be Lucas calling, I reluctantly thrusted one hand into my purse and fished the phone out. 

It wasn’t Lucas. It was Stephen. I ignored the call and slid the phone back into my purse. I doubted that he had “cooled off” already, and my desire to talk to him was more than slim. 

Once the phone had stopped blaring, I switched the engine on and turned the car around. My plan about shopping for groceries was long forgotten. Instead I just wanted to get out of this parking lot as fast as possible. 

As I reached the main road, my phone started blaring again, but this time I didn’t even bother checking who was calling. I already knew that it was my husband who was trying to reach me. I wasn’t interested in talking to him just now. I wasn’t interested in forgiving him this soon. Perhaps it was petty, letting him stew like this, but I actually felt quite hurt at how he had been at my throat almost right away. He hadn’t even asked me how I was doing, how Lucas was doing. He hadn’t bothered asking about how our day had been. Instead he had called to make me check a sheet of paper for him. Like he always did. 

I sighed quietly. I wasn’t so sure I was gonna call him back tonight. Perhaps I would wait until tomorrow. And when I did decide to call him back, I would inform him that this wasn’t okay. He couldn’t just expect me to...

I sighed again. This hadn’t been about a silly dinner. It was the principle in it. The fact that he just made plans that involved me without even asking me. He just assumed that I would go along with it. 

My knuckles whitened as I squeezed the wheel a little more firmly. Absolutely not, mate. I was his wife. Not one of his employees. His home wasn’t a second office where everyone agreed to his every whim. We were married. We decided things together. I pursed my lips and tried to blink away the last remains of tears. 

I wasn’t completely sure how it had happened. I had just been driving without given it much thought. I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going or had a particular destination in mind. Or, that was at least what I had thought. 

Perhaps my subconscience had had a particular destination in mind after all, because suddenly, I found myself sitting and staring at Bliss’ house. I had driven to Charlotte. I had driven straight to Bliss’ home. 

Now why had I done that? Wasn’t I supposed to stay away from her? I couldn’t just show up here. Not like this. I was here for the entirely wrong reason. I was here because I had argued with my husband. 

No. No I couldn’t just show up like this. Let alone after having argued with my husband. Bliss wasn’t just some security blanket I could run to when I was upset. If I needed comfort, I could call Delia. Like I always did. I had no business being here. 

But I missed her. I missed her so much it felt like I was going crazy. The idea of driving away without having seen her seemed impossible. 

No. No, I cannot be here. I’m a married woman. This is wrong. Or was it? 

The confusion threatened to spill over, and once again I could feel the tears prickling in my eyes. But this time for a very different reason. 

I wiped them away. I wiped those pathetic tears away and told myself to get a grip. If I was one bit sensible, I turned the car around and drove home right now. 

I was not sensible. 

I ended up sitting in the car for almost twenty minutes. Everything was piling up inside my head, and I found myself wishing that I could keep sitting in the car for a few months. Or a few years. Until I figured things out. The rain was thrumming against the roof of the car, and now the rain seemed every bit appropriate. It matched my mood almost poetically. 

I vaguely registered that a light had been switched on outside Bliss’ house. The front door was opened, and then she stepped outside. Why would she do that? It was pouring down. She would be soaked within a minute. 

But Bliss seemed completely disinterested in the rain as she stepped off the porch, onto the small patch of lawn and then out on the street. Of course she had noticed the strange car parked in front of her house for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe she thought it was a burglar who was watching the house. If that was the case, she was very brave for wanting to confront the “villain”. 

But there was no villain. Only one very confused woman who really shouldn’t be here. Perhaps I can drive away before she reaches me. Perhaps that would be the smartest thing to do. 

Perhaps my thought process was too slow, or perhaps she was walking fast, but either way she reached my car long before I had even reached to twist the car key and start the engine. 

She tapped the window once, and perhaps I was a coward, but I wasn’t cowardly enough to take off now. I rolled the window down instead.

“I recognized the car,” Bliss said. 

I just shook my head in response. Of course she did. I should have thought of that. 

“Ella? Are you alright?” Bliss asked and leaned forward slightly to peer in at me.

“No,” I said quietly. 

“What is- have you been crying?” 

“Possibly,” I admitted almost ashamed. It had been a long time since I had last cried over anything. 

“Come inside,” she said, and then she was reaching in through the car window and touching my cheek. 

I shook my head again. “No, I- I don’t even know why I’m here. I don’t know anything anymore.” 

“Come inside,” Bliss repeated. “Please?” 

I was supposed to say no. I was supposed to push her hand away, roll the window up and then drive away. 

I did push her hand away. I did roll the window up. But instead of leaving, I opened the door and stepped out of the car.


	19. Chapter 19

Seemingly having lost the ability to do the right thing, I followed Bliss inside the house. As in a daze, I unbuttoned my coat, and Bliss swiftly grabbed it and left it on the coat rack. Then she gently nudged me towards her sitting room, and it didn’t take long before I found myself sitting on her couch. I should have taken off my shoes. Her long haired carpet probably didn’t appreciate my wet shoes.

“Do you want something to drink?” Bliss offered. “Tea? Coffee? Something stronger? I have a bit of wine left. I think.” 

I laughed strangled. “No thank you. I’m fine. I don’t need anything.” 

“Sure you do,” Bliss scoffed. “Everyone needs something. Even if they don’t know what it is. So, what will it be, British gal? Tea or coffee or alcohol?” 

“You don’t have a cigarette, do you?” I asked vaguely and cursed myself for having thrown away my own pack in a fit of common sense. Right now, I didn’t care that cigarettes were bad for me. I needed them, damn it!

“No, sorry, I don’t. I don’t smoke. Well, maybe I tried a joint during my college time, but apart from that I’ve never really been into smoking,” Bliss said almost apologetically. 

I laughed strangled. “That’s hardly something to apologize for. It’s a horrible habit.” 

“And yet you do it,” she observed. 

“Only when I’m stressed,” I defended. 

“I’ll find you a glass of wine,” Bliss said and turned around as she headed back into the kitchen. 

I didn’t argue. I actually wouldn’t mind a glass of wine right now. Perhaps a bit of alcohol would be enough to take the edge of things. 

Or perhaps not. The argument I’ve had with Stephen was still tumbling around in my mind, combined with the knowledge that I shouldn’t be here. 

But oddly enough, I felt calmer than I had been a moment ago. Perhaps I shouldn’t be here, but I felt better now that I was sitting here on Bliss’ old sofa and feeling my high heels sinking into the plushness of her ridiculous, fuzzy carpet. 

I probably look a fright. I wiped my cheeks and cringed when the back of my hand came away black. My mascara was most likely smeared all over my cheeks. And my makeup bag was lying in my purse.   
Which was lying in the car. And the idea of going back outside in this weather.... 

As on cue, the rain hammered against the roof with more force than before. 

Bliss returned to the sitting room with the red wine.

“A glass of red wine for the lady,” she joked.

“Thank you,” I said and quelled a smile. This was actually a cup of red wine. Not a glass. I had never had red wine in a cup before, but there was a first time for everything, as they say. 

“I was all out of glasses,” Bliss said as she poured herself a cup of red wine. “So it was either that or drinking it from the bottle. And I figured you were too much of a lady to do that.” 

“You figured correctly,” I said and took a small sip of the red wine. It was slightly sweeter than the one Stephen always bought, but I actually didn’t mind that. This was probably cheap wine, but I didn’t mind that either. It was refreshing tasting something else. Something I wasn’t used to. 

“And...” Bliss added and to my surprise, she fished a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to me. 

“Thank you,” I said as I accepted the tissue. “I probably look like a mess.” 

“You do not,” she protested. “You look beautiful.” 

“I do not,” I said and dabbed my cheeks with the tissue. “I look like a mess.” 

“A beautiful mess,” Bliss said stubbornly. 

Almost against my will, I laughed hoarsely and took a sip of my wine. A larger one. I had never been one for drinking a lot, but it didn’t take long before I had emptied the cup of wine. And I instantly felt bad about it. I had just shown up here, forced her to go out in the rain, more or less wept all over the poor girl, and then proceeded to stain her sofa with my wet clothes, and drink her wine. 

I really was a mess. 

“Jesus bloody Christ,” I muttered more to myself than to her and took another sip of the wine. 

“Mmm, it does help to blame him sometimes. I’ve been there myself,” Bliss nodded. 

I chuckled wetly at that. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bliss asked, and now her voice was more tender. And so was the hand lightly brushing against my arm. 

“I don’t know....” I said vaguely. I couldn’t just tell her that I had argued with my husband, could I? No. It wouldn’t be right. Stephen was my husband. And Bliss was.... Well.... I didn’t really know what Bliss was. A woman I had a pathetic crush on? A woman I was lusting after because I was bored? Or a lifeline to cling on to? 

“Talking about it helps,” Bliss said, and her fingers brushed against my arm again. “It always does.” 

I couldn’t refuse when she used that tone. “I just had a bad row with.... with my...” my voice failed me. I couldn’t get myself to say the word husband.

“With your husband?” Bliss asked gently. 

“Mmm,” I said half-heartedly, even though I didn’t normally mutter. 

“Did he shout?” Bliss asked, and a wrinkle appeared between her eyes. 

“We were both shouting,” I said. “But-“ I didn’t finish the sentence. I settled for thinking it. But Stephen was the first one to raise his voice.

“But what?” Bliss gently prodded. 

“Nothing,” I said and shook my head once. “He was just stressed. That’s all.” 

“That sounds like an excuse,” Bliss smartly observed. 

I didn’t answer that. Instead I looked down. I ended up fixating my gaze on her beautiful, slender hands. I noted that there were tiny splatters of clay on her fingers. 

Bliss was quick to notice my lingering gaze. “I was working on something in the basement earlier,” she said. “I came upstairs to take a break, and then I saw the lights from your car.” 

“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” I said and pursed my lips slightly. 

“I don’t mind,” she said and flashed me a little smile. “It’s cool.”

“No, it’s not,” I said as a wave of pure self-disgust rose within me. “I shouldn’t just show up here and.... It’s not right. And it’s not fair. Not to you, or me, or-“

“Ella.” Bliss interrupted and put her hand over mine. “It’s okay.” 

But it wasn’t. It was not okay that I showed up here like this, and it was not okay that I liked sitting on her sofa, sipping wine from a silly, baby blue cup. I shook my head again as fresh tears threatened to fall. “I don’t know anything anymore.” It felt like pure defeat, admitting it, but nevertheless that was how things were. I had never felt so confused in my life. 

“And why is it that you have to figure things out right now?” Bliss asked gently and squeezed my hand a little. 

“Because that’s the way things work in my life,” I said and tried to laugh. “We figure things out quickly and move along just as fast. That’s just how things are.” 

“We?” Bliss echoed and her eyebrow rose slightly. “Since when are you two people?” 

“I-“ I held my tongue. I had automatically included Stephen in the sentence. Like we were a unity, and I wasn’t an individual person. 

I still had no idea who I was. Or what I wanted. 

I didn’t know what to do. What to say, what to think. So I ended up buying myself some time and studied Bliss properly. She was wearing a pair of very light blue jeans with flare and an orange top with a sweetheart neckline. A light blue scarf was tied around her wild curls, and she was barefooted. Today’s nail polish was lime green. At least the one she was wearing on her toenails. The nail polish on her fingernails were purple. I looked away from her hands and noted that there was an apron lying nonchalantly discarded on one of the chairs in the kitchen. The clay splatters on the apron matched the ones on her hands. 

“You want some more wine?” Bliss asked, and I was forced to look at her face. 

“No, thank you,” I said as I forced myself to meet her coffee colored eyes. I’ve already had one glass of wine. That was more than enough. I wasn’t interested in getting drunk. I already felt dizzy enough as it was. And it had nothing to do with the wine I had consumed.

“How about some music then?” she suggested. “I always listen to music at night. Helps me relax.” 

Perhaps some music wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps some music would make me stop pay attention to my own thoughts for just a moment. So I nodded, did my best to smile and said: “yes, just play some music if you’d like.”

“Yeah? You’re sure you don’t mind?” 

“It’s your home, Bliss. You can do what you want.” 

She shook her head slightly at my answer and then rose from the sofa. Found her phone in the kitchen and brought it back to the sitting room. I saw her frown in concentration as she scrolled. Most likely through her playlist. She was quick to find what she was looking for, and soon the music was flowing from the speakers in the phone:

“Again, this couldn’t happen again,

This is that once in a lifetime,

This is the thrill divine....”

I could recognize Doris Day’s sweet, soft voice anywhere, and I was slightly surprised that Bliss was familiar with her too. I wouldn’t have pegged her for a Doris Day kind of girl. 

“What’s more, this never happened before,

Though I have prayed for a lifetime,

That such as you would suddenly be mine....”

“You know this song?” Bliss asked. 

“Yes, I do,” I nodded.

“It was my mom’s favorite,” Bliss said with a little smile. 

“Was?” I echoed. 

“Mmm,” Bliss said. Just that. 

“Mine to hold as I'm holding you now and yet never so near,

Mine to have when the now and the here disappear,

What matters, dear, for....

My stomach clenched some. The music had the exact opposite effect. I didn’t feel relaxed. I felt tense and on edge. And not only because of the music, but also because I liked being here so much, and I knew that I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t like being here. Nor should I even be here. 

“When this doesn't happen again

We'll have this moment forever

But never, never again (never, never)

We'll have this moment for ever

But never, never again (never, never)...”

The last tone hovered slightly in the room, and I had to swallow something. Do you even have a clue what you’re doing here, Ella? The answer was no. I didn’t know what I was doing here, but I did know why I was here. And it was still for the completely wrong reasons. Because I’ve argued with my husband. That’s why I’m here. And it’s so incredibly selfish of me. 

“I should...” 

“No,” Bliss interrupted. And then she walked over to the sofa where I was still sitting. She bowed her head and then she was kissing me. Her lip gloss tasted of strawberry, and she smelled of cocoa and honey. She was warm and wonderful, and I really shouldn’t be doing this. Nor should I be enjoying it as much as I did. My skin shouldn’t erupt in goosebumps, and I shouldn’t feel that particular flush creep up my neck. 

And I most certainly shouldn’t be returning the kiss. I should... I should stop. That was the right thing to do. 

I turned my head to avoid her kiss and then I rose from the sofa. I shook my head and turned my back on her. Looked out of the window. It was still pouring. I could hear how the rain splattered against the windows. Now we were paying the price for this week’s beautiful weather. A lightening zigzagged across the dark sky, and a moment later, I heard how it rumbled dangerously. The beautiful weather had been replaced with this. Heavy downfall, rustling in the trees and thundering. A regular storm. 

Nothing ever lasted. 

“I should go,” I half-whispered without taking my eyes off the darkened sky. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Bliss said. 

“I should.” 

I could feel her getting closer to me, and then a warm hand touched my shoulder. I stiffened automatically, but I didn’t shake her hand off me. 

“Do you want to leave?” Bliss asked gently, and now her hand was rubbing my shoulder slightly. 

“No,” I whispered. “But I should.” 

“And when’s the last time you did something you wanted, and not something you should?” Bliss asked plainly. 

I just shook my head. I couldn’t remember. A lot of the things I had done lately, where things I should do. Things people expected me to do. How often did I do things just because I wanted too? Just   
because I could? When was the last time I had done something I hadn’t been asked or motivated to do by someone else? When was the last time my actions had been my own? 

“Don’t leave,” Bliss said. Her voice was so quiet, it was almost a whisper. 

And by all the gods, I didn’t want to leave. I really, really didn’t. 

Bliss squeezed my shoulders slightly, and then she gently spun me around. 

We faced each other, and driven entirely by my instincts, I brought a hand up and cupped her cheek lightly. She immediately leaned into the touch and put her hand over mine. 

“Ella.” she said. Just that. But the way she said it still made my heart shatter just a little bit. 

It seemed to impossible that I had to leave now. That I actually had to turn my back on her and walk away. Just how was I supposed to do that? 

I couldn’t. Plain and simple. I was already in way over my head. I had gone against all my good common sense and digged myself in deeper. 

Far, far too deep. 

“Ella,” Bliss said again, and now her voice was nothing more than just a whisper. 

“You shouldn’t say my name like that,” I gently scolded. 

“No, but I want too,” she replied. 

“I don’t know what to make of any of this,” I said quietly. 

“I think you do, though,” Bliss said gently and turned her head an inch or so, so she could kiss my hand. “And I think that scares the hell out of you.” 

“It does,” I whispered, and my voice broke slightly. 

“That’s alright,” she said. “You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to be whatever you want to be.” 

“Kiss me,” I whispered. 

And oh, how she did. Immediately, she turned her head and brushed her lips against mine. Her scent instantly overwhelmed me, and I moved my hand from her cheek, slid it down and interlaced our fingers instead. She squeezed my fingers slightly, and then her other hand was pressing lightly against my lower back. She was bringing me closer, and I didn’t mind that one bit. No, I wanted to be closer to her. I wanted to feel her. All of her. 

With the tip of her tongue, she gently pried my lips apart. I wanted that too. I wanted to open my mouth for her, and my body started tingling as our kiss deepened. I teetered slightly on my high heels, but   
I wasn’t afraid of falling. If I did, she would catch me. And even if she didn’t, I would land on the rug. Safe and sound. 

God, she was so wonderful. Thick, dark curls tickled my cheek, and I could almost have chuckled at the sensation. She released my fingers, and her soft, smooth hand came up to cup the back of my neck instead. The tip of her tongue wrapped around mine, and then she sucked lightly. Enough to make heat rise within my body and make my mind go blank. 

Before I could stop myself, I moaned slightly into her mouth. Her hands were moving. One was sliding down to my hip and rested there, while the other one slipped from my lower back and landed a bit further down. 

I moaned again. My brain felt completely muddled, and right now, right or wrong had never seemed farther away. The only thing I could think about, was her. Bliss, and the way she was kissing me. How she made heat flare up within my body. Something coiled low in my stomach. 

“Ella...” Bliss whispered against my lips. 

Don’t say my name like that. It does things to me. 

That was when the sky rumbled dangerously once more, and both Bliss and I gasped slightly at the interruption. While it was unexpected, the intrusion wasn’t as unwelcome as it could have been. I actually needed air. 

I took several deep gulps of air, and I would have felt embarrassed if it hadn’t been for Bliss. She did the exact same thing. And then she smiled. Widely. 

“Wow,” she said plainly. 

I settled for a nod. I wasn’t quite in a position to talk quite yet. 

“You smell fantastic,” Bliss breathed. 

“Chanel no. 5,” I said automatically. I had worn the same perfume for years.

Bliss snickered. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me one bit?” 

I offered a slight chuckle at that, and my voice was almost a bit shy when I said: “you smell of... chocolate.” 

She laughed a little. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes I think I should start wearing a more adult perfume, but...” 

“No,” I interrupted. “No, you shouldn’t do that. You smell wonderful.” 

“Alright. You’ve convinced me,” Bliss said, and then she was pulling me closer again. Her arms wrapped around my waist, and the way our bodies were pressed together made me sigh. 

“Bliss...”

“You’re driving me crazy, Ella,” she stated plainly, and then she was kissing me again. 

I could have laughed at the absurdity in that statement. I was driving her crazy? Here I was, kissing this young, beautiful woman who smelled amazing, and she claimed that I was driving her crazy?! It   
didn’t make sense. 

But I couldn’t tell her that. She was preventing me from speaking, but I didn’t mind that one bit, and I moaned in delight as her hands slipped down once again. 

And soon her lips were moving too. She kissed my cheek, my jaw, her lips travelled down to the spot just below my ear, and my body went rigid for a second when I felt the soft spot being stimulated. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been kissed there, and the feeling of stimuli was almost unfamiliar. 

“You okay?” Bliss asked, and the muttered question against my neck made my skin vibrate slightly. 

“I- yes,” I said. “I’m fine.” 

“Oh, good. Could have sworn I lost you there for a second,” she breathed. 

“No-no, I’m right here,” I assured. 

“Yes. Yes, you are,” she whispered into my neck. “And I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.” 

I laughed strangled. I had some doubts about the sincerity in that statement, but I never got the chance to actually say anything. She kissed the sensitive spot on my neck again, and my mind completely clouded. I couldn’t think. She made it impossible. Nor could I contain the sounds that were coming out of my mouth. They almost embarrassed me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had made these kind of sounds. If ever. 

“Bliss...”

She hummed against my skin. For some reason, the sound was very reassuring. It made me feel safe. But it didn’t exactly make me calm. I felt warm all over, my legs were starting to feel weak, and I could feel how the muscles between my thighs twitched and tightened. My desire for her was blooming rapidly. I was going slick and slippery, and I couldn’t remember the last time my desire had been this... profusely. I couldn’t remember the last time I had allowed my desire to really take hold in me. 

I teetered on my high heels again. It was getting harder to stand. My legs felt weak.

Her lips was still on my neck. She was sucking and pulling at the skin there, and god, how did she even know that I liked that? I could barely remember it myself. 

I only just held back a groan when her lips moved to my collarbone. It felt as though I had been sat on fire, and for a moment I was sure that I was gonna fall. 

I didn’t. Bliss pressed her palm against my lower back once more, and the heat from her hand seemed to seep right through my blazer and blouse, into my skin. It felt as though she was warming me up from the inside. Her lips left my collarbone, slowly moved up the side of my neck. Found that little spot just below my ear and lingered there for a moment. Pulled lightly at the skin, and then grazed her teeth over it. My insides were melting. Or so it felt like. 

“Bliss!” 

Another hum against my skin, and then her lips were travelling upwards once more. She kissed another soft spot just below the hinge of my jaw, trailed up and then peppered my cheek with soft kisses. I had trouble breathing. When was the last time anyone had kissed me like this? When was the last time anyone had shown me this kind of attention? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken their time with me. Lately, physical intimacy had always been about the endgame and not about showering me in gentle attention. My throat tightened some at the idea of that. 

But then she found my lips with her own again, and I forgot all thoughts of being upset. My body was tingling and humming in ways that made me dizzy, and I didn’t think twice before I moved my fingers up and buried them in her thick hair. Her curls were coarser than I had imagined, and yet they still felt soft between my fingers. Everything on her felt soft. Her hands, that ran down my sides were soft, her bare arms, that wrapped firmly against my waist to pull me closer felt soft. I moaned breathlessly at the way the position pushed our breasts together. They felt soft too. 

Once again, she easily pried my lips apart with the tip of her tongue, and it didn’t take long our kiss deepened once more. God, what is she doing to me? How does she manage to make me feel so much by doing so little? Her scent completely overwhelmed me. Cocoa and honey. Right now I wanted nothing more than to keep inhaling that scent forever. I wanted to drown myself in it. I wanted to drown myself in her. But I was running out of air, and my lips were starting to buzz with something else than just excitement. They were starting to hurt a little. I wasn’t used to kissing like this. Not for this long, and not with this intensity. 

I moved my hands from her hair to her shoulders where I pushed gently. She immediately understood what I was trying to do and released my lips with a soft pop. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, and I was shocked upon hearing how scratchy her voice had gotten. 

“Yes,” I said and wiped my lips slightly. Most of my lipstick was gone and smeared all over her lips instead. Was my mascara still smudged? I probably looked like a right mess. I certainly felt like one, with hair that still were rather flat after having been out in the rain, and clothes that still felt slightly wet and stuck to me. And the spot on my underwear that were growing damp for entirely different reasons. 

My breath hitched slightly as I tried to fill my lungs with oxygen. 

Another lightening zigzagged across the sky. The rumbling followed, and it felt like the house was shaking. Or maybe I was shaking. Either way, the lightening brought me somewhat back to reality. 

There was my car parked outside. Wasn’t I supposed to be somewhere else right now? Wasn’t I supposed to do something else? Hadn’t I been on my way to another destination before coming here? 

Everything felt a bit foggy, but I could have sworn that I...

“No,” Bliss said, interrupting my train of thoughts as she grasped my chin and turned my head away from the window. “Stop looking like that.” 

“Like what?” I asked. My voice sounded slightly strangled too. 

“Like you’re about to run off.” 

I tried to laugh, but it didn’t really work. “That would probably be the wisest thing-“

“Fuck being wise,” Bliss interrupted. “Fuck being sensible.” 

This time I managed a slight, hoarse chuckle. 

“Don’t go,” Bliss said and grasped my hand. 

I looked down at our hands as she interlaced our fingers and then gave a soft squeeze. How could her hand be this warm?

I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back out in the rain. I didn’t want to get in my car and drive back to my home. I didn’t want to be a coward anymore and pretend that this had never happened. I was done sticking my head in the sand. I couldn’t ignore what was right in front of me. Nor did I want too. 

But voicing what I actually wanted seemed dangerous too. It left my mouth feeling dry and my palms damp. It left me breathless and flushed and unsure of what to say or do. I doubted I had wanted anything as much as I wanted this right now. 

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I looked up at her face again. What are you doing to me? I silently asked her for the millionth time. How had she gotten under my skin this quickly? 

Another squeeze to my fingers, and then she raised her other hand and cupped my cheek softly. This time, it was my turn to lean into the touch. I simply couldn’t help myself. I was clearly powerless when it came to her. I felt vulnerable, but not in a remotely bad way. I felt as though it was okay to be vulnerable. 

“Don’t leave,” she whispered. “Stay the night with me.” 

My mouth felt completely dry again, and my heart was hammering against my ribs. What answer could I give her except for one?


	20. Chapter 20

Unable to say anything, I let my actions do all the talking as I bridged the distance between us and kissed her again. 

I couldn’t run away now. And I didn’t want to run away either. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I could feel the rightfulness in my decision in my very bones. 

I cupped her cheeks once more, and I could feel how her skin heated up under my touch. She immediately returned the kiss, and her fingers found home in my hair. 

I felt something I hadn’t felt for a very long time as her soft fingers gently threated through my hair, and eager to feel even more, I skated my fingers down her bare arms. She shivered at that, and I was sure I could feel the goosebumps pebbling on her skin. How was it possible? How could this impossibly beautiful young woman get affected by me? It didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense. 

Just as I was splaying my fingers wide over her hips, unsure of whether to grasp or caress, her fingers left my hair. A hand slid down to my breast, and I had to stop kissing her for a moment. She wasn’t squeezing or kneading, just lightly cupping my breast, and the effect was absolutely dizzying. I could feel how the warmth from her palm seeped through my clothes. My nipple was already reacting to her touch, and I could feel that slight pull between my thighs. Warmth and need was blooming in a way it hadn’t been allowed to bloom for a very long time, and my breath quickened as I slotted our lips together again. She didn’t move her hand. Instead she began to lightly trace the top of my bra with her nimble fingers. She was touching me, and at the same time not really, but every touch still send delicious shivers down my spine. 

I wanted her. I knew that now. I couldn’t remember the last time I had wanted anything so much, but god, how I wanted her! It almost scared me. Because I wasn’t normally this passionate. 

Or perhaps I hadn’t had reason to be this passionate. Perhaps this was in fact me, and I had simply forgotten it. 

The sky rumbled once more; I was certain I could feel the vibrations somewhere deep within me. 

Bliss panted into my mouth, and I quickly forgot everything and focused on the here and now again. How warm her skin were. How sweet she smelled. I squeezed her hips slightly, and she moaned slightly once more. Her hand left my breast, and I would have mourned the loss if it hadn’t been for the way her fingers quickly slid down. She started to fiddle with the button in my blazer. It didn’t take long before she had manipulated the button through the hole, and my breath hitched as her fingers skated up my shoulders to slide the blazer down my arms. Soon it landed on the floor with a soft thud, and I shivered despite wearing both my blouse and camisole still. I was still fully clothed, and yet I was shivering already. 

Bliss broke the kiss, tilted her head slightly and smiled as our gazes met. She took my hand, squeezed my fingers lightly. I immediately squeezed back. 

“Upstairs?” she said softly. It was a question. She was giving me a choice. 

But I had already made my choice. My voice was still failing me, so I had to settle for a nod and another squeeze to her fingers. 

She smiled beamingly at that, and then she moved. Slowly walking towards the stairs as she kept holding on to my hand. 

I followed her. Of course I did. I felt as though I was being pulled by an invisible force as we reached the bottom of the stairs. I wasn’t completely sure how I managed to ascend the stairs. My knees seemed to buckle with each step, and the muscles between my thighs kept twitching. Yes, walking was difficult, but yet I kept going. Kept following the beautiful young woman walking in front of me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I followed her. Couldn’t look away from the way her hips were swaying slightly as she walked. The way her wild curls bounced. She was still holding on to my hand, but every so often she turned her head. Like she was doubting that I was still there. 

I wasn’t going anywhere. That much was certain. She should know that by now. 

None of us said anything as we continued going up the stairs. I didn’t really have the desire to say anything. My stomach was coiling. With arousal, but also with a twinge of anxiety. I still couldn’t quite comprehend that this was actually happening, and I had no idea how to gather my thoughts. 

Another squeeze to my fingers, and then we reached the hallway. There wasn’t a lot of room, but Bliss still insisted on walking beside me instead of in front of me, and as we walked, she lifted my hand, brought it up to her lips and then kissed my palm lightly. It was barely a touch, but I could still feel the effect everywhere. What was it about her that made me so receptive to her? 

The door to the bedroom was closed, and instead of using her hands to open the door, Bliss simply lifted her foot and gave the door a soft kick. I would have chuckled if it hadn’t been for the way my breath still hitched in my throat. I was beginning to doubt whether I would ever find my voice again. 

Bliss’ bedroom was exactly what I had expected. I hadn’t even been aware that I had any expectations until now, but somehow this room matched every single one of them. Her bed looked as though it had been placed randomly in the room, and the bedding was covered by a red bedspread, that didn’t quite match the yellow walls. I almost chuckled. Even in the more than faint light, I could still see that the walls were painted yellow. I wasn’t one bit surprised. Of course here walls were yellow. And of course her bedspread was vibrant red. 

Someday she would have to tell me the reason behind her obsession with yellow. 

But now was not the time for explanations. Taking my eyes off the yellow walls, I toed off my shoes and then brushed a hand over my skirt. Suddenly, I was unsure of how to do this. What to do next. 

Should I undress, or did she want to be the one to undress me? I wasn’t sure, and I averted my eyes as a wave of uncertainty hit me. 

“Hey,” Bliss said gently and placed her warm hands on my shoulders. “Don’t disappear on me.” 

“I won’t. I just-“ don’t know how to do this. Taking my clothes off in front of her was suddenly the most daunting thing in the world. She was so young, so perfect, so everything, and I was well.... Me. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop,” Bliss said gently and pecked my lips once. 

Easier said than done. 

She flashed me a little smile, and then she lifted her orange top, easily slipping it off her body. 

I had to take another deep breath at the nearly bared chest in front of me. Unlike me, she wasn’t shy. I almost scoffed. She has nothing to be shy about. And where her clothes were vibrant and colorful, the same thing couldn’t be said about her underwear. Her bra was black, modest, but if I didn’t know any better, I would say that it was a size too small. She was nearly spilling out of the cups, and I felt equally aroused and self-conscious as I looked at her exposed upper body. Everything on her was young and firm, and her nipples were clearly straining against the thin fabric of her bra. I could see droplets of sweat on her mocha colored skin. Her stomach was tight and firm, her muscles rippled every time she took a shallow breath. The little gemstone in her belly button shimmered slightly, and I found myself unable to look away from it. She was perfect. Every part of her was heartbreakingly beautiful. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Bliss said quietly. 

True, she had a point there, but nevertheless....

“Not like this,” I said equally hushed. She had just revealed a part of herself to me. It was only fair that I did the same. My hands were shaking as I brought them up and started to open the first button in my blouse. I silently cursed my hands for shaking like this. The way my fingers trembled easily revealed what was going on inside my head. How nervous I was. 

“Wait,” Bliss said gently. “Give me your hand.” 

I gave her my hand as she asked, and she quickly brought it up, guided it up to rest on her breast, just above her bra. The breath completely exploded out of her lungs at that, and I felt slightly shocked. I was barely touching her. 

“Every time you painted me...” Bliss said, her voice raspy, and her breath shallow. “I kept imagining you... Touching me. Like this. It always seemed like an impossible dream.” 

Clearly not. It seemed impossible, but I was here, I was touching her, I was the reason her breath was shallow, and her eyes were wide. I almost couldn’t believe it. 

I slid my hand down to her stomach. She shifted slightly on her feet at that, and I saw how her teeth sank into her bottom lip. If I hadn’t been looking at the evidence, I would have refused to believe that she was as affected by me, as I was by her.

Experimentally, I let my hands wander further down until they were resting just above the top of her jeans. I touched the button in her jeans with two fingers. 

“May I?” I asked gently. 

“At this point, I think you have too,” Bliss said and shifted on her feet again. 

I chuckled quietly at that, and then I popped the button open and unzipped her jeans. She elegantly shimmied out of them and thereby exposed her gloriously long, toned legs. Perfect and mocha colored. 

How many times had I admired her beautiful, long legs? I couldn’t remember. I just knew that I was dying to touch her. To feel how soft and smooth she was. But I didn’t. Not yet. For a moment, I would be satisfied with just looking at her. Letting my eyes wander from her face to her chest to her tight abdomen and then all the way down to her legs. A smile tugged at my lips. Purple panties. There was just something so delightfully real about her mismatched underwear. 

Bliss chuckled a little. “I know. It looks-“ 

“Perfect,” I interrupted. She had absolutely nothing to apologize for. 

“Says you,” she said. 

I shook my head, and to silence her nonsense, I kissed her. My hands slid down to rest on her hips as I did so. One of her curls tickled my cheek slightly. I felt dizzy once more. 

Bliss moved her hands away from my shoulders. First, I didn’t understand what she was doing, but then I gasped into the kiss as I noticed how one more barrier between us disappeared and I felt the sensation of her breasts being pressed against my body. She had just reached back and unclasped her bra. 

I broke the kiss to look at her. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Her chocolate brown nipples were hard points, aching to be touched. By me. More wetness rushed to my center at that. I suddenly felt frustrated. I wanted to touch her, but at the same time I wasn’t quite sure how to touch her.   
Bliss lowered her arms down by her side and flashed me a somewhat shy smile. 

I returned her smile. She had nothing to be shy about. 

She raised her hands once more, but not to cover herself. Only to reach up and move the scarf from her hair. Then she looked me square in the eyes while she slowly hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties. My throat completely tightened, and it felt as though I had been set alight as she slowly pushed them down her legs and stepped out of them. She was completely exposed to me, I had seen her before, I knew that, but at the same time it felt as though I was seeing her naked for the first time. My throat felt drier than ever as she shifted her weight and thereby drew my attention to the place where she was smooth and perfect and glistening with arousal. My head was spinning, and I had to take a deep breath to force myself to stop looking and remember what was going on. She was completely naked, while I was still fully clothed, and I imagined that she felt quite vulnerable like that, so I quickly raised my hands and started working the buttons in my blouse once more. 

But once again she stopped me. She gently pushed my hands away and replaced them with her own. Then she opened the first button in my blouse. I looked down at the floor. 

A gentle hand cupped my chin, and then Bliss tilted my face up so our eyes met once more. 

“Hey,” she said gently. “Don’t look away.” 

I swallowed something. My heart thudded in my chest. Now I was the one who felt vulnerable, but I nevertheless did what she asked and kept looking at her. A little wrinkle appeared between her eyes as she frowned in sheer concentration. If I hadn’t felt so vulnerable, I could have laughed at the expression on her face. 

It didn’t take long before she had successfully opened the line of buttons in my blouse, and soon she was sliding the garment down my shoulders. It landed on the rug with a quiet thud. 

Next, she moved her hands down and slowly lifted my camisole from where it had been tugged into the waistband of my skirt. She drew the garment up until she could lift it over my head. Another soft thud, and then the camisole was lying on the rug. 

I immediately lifted a hand and smoothened my hair. Perhaps it had been mussed up when she pulled the tanktop over my head. 

A warm palm flattened against my stomach, and it was impossible for me to keep looking at Bliss as her eyes wandered over my half-exposed body. I was very well aware that I wasn’t half as young and firm as she was. My stomach was much softer, and so was my breasts. Even if this bra was one of my better ones. The red one, that usually gave my confidence a boost. But not today. Suddenly, the twenty year age gap between us attacked me, and I became acutely aware over the million little imperfections I knew I had. The wrinkles and folds here and there. The thin, silvery lines of stretchmarks on my abdomen. The idea that Bliss would remove my skirt and see them in a minute was... 

“Ella, look at me,” Bliss said gently. 

I swallowed and licked my dry lips as I lifted my head and looked at her. 

“You are driving me crazy,” Bliss said plainly. 

I laughed strangled. Should she really be driven “crazy” by me? The very idea seemed ridiculous. She was the one who was driving me crazy. 

The warm palm disappeared from my stomach, Bliss was working the side zipper in my skirt. I could feel how the material became looser around me, and soon it was pooling around my ankles. I stepped out of it, painfully aware that the silvery lines on my abdomen now were visible to Bliss’ eyes. It felt as though I had a massive lump in my throat, and I tried to breathe normally as I stood there in front of her in my underwear. It didn’t even help that my panties matched my bra. I still felt self-conscious. 

Bliss shook her head. “God, Ella. Do you even see yourself clearly?” 

“Yes. Far too clearly,” I said and tried to laugh. The sound came out strangled. 

“No, you don’t,” she said and clicked her tongue. “You really, really don’t.” 

Before I could protest, she kissed me deeply once more. Our tongues intertwined, and I locked my fingers in her hair, and I was far too busy with kissing her to pay much attention to how her fingers slid up and started toying with the clasp on my bra. But as I gradually became aware of what she was doing, the feeling of self-consciousness seemed to lift some and was replaced by the carnal feeling of sheer arousal. I could feel a significant amount of slickness on my inner thighs, and the desire to sit down became more acute as I suddenly once again noticed how much I ached between my thighs. 

I moaned into her mouth, trying to voice that I couldn’t stand upright for much longer. Bliss broke the kiss, and her warm fingers roamed around on my back. Then she unclasped my bra, and I had to swallow something again as the garment ended up next to my other clothes on the floor. 

She took a step backwards and looked at me. Her brown shone as they roamed over my body. The feeling of being self-conscious tickled in the back of my mind once more, but I desperately tried to quell the feeling. 

Bliss took my hand, lead me over to the bed. She didn’t let go as she with one hand shoved the bedspread aside, revealing purple bedding underneath it. I didn’t hesitate as I climbed up on the bed and then lied down. My hair spread out on the pillow. The bed creaked slightly as Bliss climbed up, and then she was above me, smiling down at me. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” she breathed. 

I smiled a little as I reached up and cupped her cheek. She was a fine one to talk when she was the one who was stunning. A vision.

Effortlessly, she stretched out over me, and I groaned when I felt her wetness on my thigh. Her hair tickled me as she kissed my cheek, my jaw, moved down to my neck. Found that sensitive spot once more. She lingered there for a moment and used her teeth to pull slightly at the skin before continuing her journey down my neck. Soon she was kissing the very top of my shoulder, my chest. I moaned as   
I felt her mouth on my breast for the first time. The muscles between my legs tightened in response. 

She lifted her head and looked at me. “You are perfect,” she breathed. “In every way.” 

No, I’m not. Really, I’m not. Not compared to you.

I didn’t tell her that. I couldn’t. Not when her warm mouth got closer and closer to my nipple. My back arched, and I could barely recognize the sounds coming out of my mouth. It didn’t sound like me. 

No, it sounded like someone who.... Enjoyed herself. Loudly. 

I curled my hand into a fist and brought it up to my mouth. The sounds slipping past my lips somehow embarrassed me, and I desperately tried to muffle my cries. 

Warm fingers closed around my wrist, and I groaned in complain when the warm mouth disappeared from my breast. I raised my head slightly to look at Bliss. She had lifted her head too and was looking at me. 

“Nu-uh,” she said gently, yet firmly as she batted my fist away from my mouth. “Don’t you dare holding anything back, Ella.” She came up and kissed my cheek. Whispered in my ear: “you’re fine. You’re perfect. Don’t hold back. Just... Allow yourself.” 

I nodded mutely. It was only a matter of time before I couldn’t keep quiet anymore anyway. 

The warm mouth returned to my breast and my body completely twitched when her lips closed around my nipple, and she began to slowly and gently suck. 

My fingers closed around the iron headboard. I desperately needed something to hold on. My body was moving by its own accord as my back arched and my legs twitched again. I couldn’t recognize myself, but for once, it didn’t bother me. For once, I didn’t mind this transformation one bit. I was feeling. I was completely lost in the sensation her touches were bringing me. The way it made desire bloom low in my belly. My heels digged into the mattress. Another movement I couldn’t control. I bit my lip, gasped for air. It felt as though there wasn’t enough of it. I couldn’t quite catch my breath, and when I said her name, it came out completely ragged. 

She didn’t answer. At least not with her words. Instead her warm hand came up and cupped my cheek. 

I wanted to put my hand over hers, but my hands didn’t obey me as I tried to move them away from the headboard. Instead I ended up squeezing the headboard tighter. The hand was lifted from my cheek, and then she was touching my other breast. She wasn’t just pawing or kneading too roughly. Her touches were gentle, focused. She knew exactly how to touch me. She knew what I liked and didn’t like even though I mostly had forgotten it myself. 

I could hear the bed creak as my back arched once more. Perhaps the springs in the mattress would burst and both of us would end up on the floor. And perhaps I didn’t care. 

She switched side, started showing my other breast the same attention, and I lifted my head slightly. My right breast was slick and glistening, and the sight of that only heightened my arousal. The muscles between my legs contracted almost painfully, and this time I did nothing to suppress the moan that slipped past my lips. Perhaps I didn’t need to be embarrassed about making noise. 

My head lolled back against the pillow as Bliss released my nipple from her mouth and instead started to dot kisses around it. For some reason, that felt equally as good as what she had been doing a few seconds ago. Her light touches were enough to drive me to a point where I hadn’t been in a very long time. I wasn’t used to this. I had forgotten what it was like when someone took their time. I finally managed to move my hands away from the headboard. My intention had been to grab onto the sheets underneath me, but somehow my fingers ended up tangling into Bliss’ hair instead. She didn’t mind that. She didn’t even stiffen when she felt my fingers in her hair. Instead she planted a kiss on the very tip of my nipple. Then another. 

I hissed and my legs jerked again. It felt like she was killing me. Slowly undoing me with kindness. The mattress creaked as I tried to squeeze my thighs together to get a little bit of friction. I didn’t succeed. The way she was lying was preventing me from doing anything about my current state. My underwear was sticking to me. I was a complete mess. 

My fingers tightened in Bliss hair as I felt her teeth scrape lightly over my nipple. Another leg jerk. Another rush of heat. I felt like I was floating, and I abandoned all thoughts of controlling the sounds that were coming out of my mouth. I was enjoying this, and I was allowed to show that. 

Bliss lifted her head. Looked at me. Her face briefly illuminated by another lightening zigzagging across the sky, and I could see that her brown eyes were darker than I had ever seen them. Her lips were slightly parted. I moved my hands from her hair to her cheeks. Her skin was burning under my touch. The bed creaked again as she shifted, and then she was crashing our lips together in a kiss. 

Compared to what she had been doing a second ago, this was less gentle, but I didn’t mind that. I was more than willing as I returned her kiss, and then I groaned slightly into her mouth. I could feel her warm center being pressed against my thigh. I wasn’t the only one who was a mess. She was exactly as aroused as I was, and I had to marvel at that for a second. This beautiful young woman wanted me.   
As much as I wanted her. Our kiss was growing messy, all teeth and tongue colliding, but right now that didn’t matter. The way kissing her made me feel was far more important. I moved my hands away from her cheeks and slid my palms down. Followed the slight curve of her spine until my palms landed on a far curvier part of her. It was her turn to groan into my mouth, and her fingers tightened into my hair. For a moment it seemed as though she lost focus, but then she broke the kiss, released my lips with a soft pop. I moved my hands away from her, ready to ask her why she was stopping, but she immediately silenced me. Her lips moved to my cheek, then my jaw, down my neck. She kissed the top of my chest, but this time she didn’t stop when she reached my breast. Instead she continued her journey down. Her tongue lightly flicked my belly button, and once again it felt like the air was being sucked out of my lungs. The feeling was incredible, but all too quickly replaced with a twinge of anxiety as her mouth slipped lower and reached the thin, silvery lines on my stomach. I tensed for a moment, once again reminded of this imperfection. I hoped she would ignore it. Would find another part of me to kiss. If only she would pretend they weren’t there, everything would be fine. 

Bliss didn’t pretend they weren’t there. I should have known that she wouldn’t. She wasn’t a pretender. Her lips hovered above my skin for a moment, but then another soft kiss was pressed to my stomach. 

I swallowed thickly as I felt her lips kiss the marks on my stomach. I knew I was tensing, but I wasn’t used to this. 

Bliss kissed the marks on my stomach again. And then again. She alternated by tracing her tongue over them and then dotting kisses all over them. Heat coiled somewhere low in my belly. Now I was straining for other reasons, and even more so when she trailed her kisses lower and reached my right hip. Her fingers toyed with the waistband of my panties. She didn’t push them down completely, just lowered them slightly so she could expose more of my hip. Then her soft mouth was kissing the newly exposed flesh. 

I gasped. She had found another sensitive spot. 

“You have a little freckle right here,” Bliss said hoarsely as she suckled a spot just below my hipbone. “It’s terribly sexy.” 

I laughed strangled at that, but I was incapable of answering. 

She moved away from my hip, shifted in the bed, and then she was between my legs. More heat rushed to my center and I flushed because I knew she could see the evidence in her current position. 

The tip of her nose nuzzled my inner thigh slightly, and then she was kissing my skin. My chest rose and fell too quickly as I gasped for air. It felt as though someone had lit a bonfire within me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. That only heightened the sensation of her lips against my inner thigh. I could feel her everywhere. Even in places she hadn’t touched yet. My toes curled. I was aching. Desperately craving more. 

“Bliss!” 

A hand found mine. Was she urging me to be patient, or was she simply assuring me that she was there? I wasn’t completely sure. I settled for squeezing her fingers. Perhaps even a little too tightly, but I couldn’t control myself anymore. She kept planting soft kisses on my inner thigh, and my back arched sharply. I squeezed her hand again. 

She responded by switching side and displaying the same attention to my other thigh. Gently kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Her hot mouth was so close to where I needed her the most, and I let out a strangled little sound. Half a moan, half a whimper. I wasn’t even embarrassed about it. Nor was I embarrassed about the copious amount of wetness I felt seeping down my leg. I was too far gone to care about it. 

“Mmm,” she breathed into my skin, and that little exclamation was enough to make me wetter. The tingles low in my gut had turned into an ache, and now that ache was starting to feel almost painful. I needed... I needed....

I groaned and twisted on the bed. I was still not in control over my body, and I felt torn between squeezing her hand or releasing it and grabbing on to the headboard again. I needed support. I needed something to ground me. Otherwise I was afraid I was gonna float away completely. 

She lifted her head, gently released my hand, and then she was tracing the waistband of my panties again. 

I swallowed something again. My mouth was dry. 

“May I?” she asked quietly. 

I nodded mutely. 

“You’re sure?” she asked. Her voice was rough. Raspy. 

I nodded again and lifted my hips slightly. 

She almost looked concentrated as she peeled my panties off and pushed them down my legs. Once they were draped around my right ankle, Bliss plucked them off and dumped them on the floor. 

My heart hammered in my chest as I felt her gaze roam over my naked body. Her gaze was too intense. It felt like she wasn’t just seeing my body. She was seeing all of me. I felt self-conscious and suddenly acutely aware that I had been slobby the last time I groomed myself.

She shook her head slightly. Like she was in disbelief. “God, you’re beautiful,” she breathed. 

I settled for a ragged breath. Now it was my turn to be in disbelief. 

“Ella, you’re incredible,” Bliss said gently as she stretched out over me once more. 

This time I settled for biting my lip. She was the incredible one. Not I. It doesn’t make sense that she’s giving me that look, it should be me, looking at her like tha-

“Ah!” my train of thoughts were interrupted when I felt her warm hand between my legs for the first time. Her touches were light, like she was trying not to overwhelm me, but I was so much on edge that every touch from her felt like gasoline being thrown onto a steady building fire. I gasped for air and turned my head to the side, debating whether to close my eyes or not. I couldn’t look at her. Her gaze was too intense to meet. 

“No, keep looking at me,” Bliss breathed as she gently grasped my chin to turn my face.

I moaned in response. 

“Don’t look away, Ella. Please,” she whispered. 

Biting my lip, I forced myself to look at her. Her coffee colored eyes were overflowing with affection, and it was almost too much. The unbridled affection made something quiver low in my stomach, and I moaned again. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed as she gently stroked between my legs. “So, so beautiful!” 

I moaned again. My lips quivered slightly, and my voice was shaking when I forced myself to utter something that wasn’t complete nonsense: “Bliss, I-“ 

“I know,” she said gently. “I know.” 

Her fingers slipped lower, grazing my entrance but never slipping inside me, and it felt like my brain short-circuited for a moment. 

“Don’t look away,” she gently repeated. 

Air seemed to be in short supply, and I wasn’t quite sure whether it was my heart or the thunder I could hear as one slender finger slipped inside me. My jaw fell open as I felt her inside me. 

“You okay?” she asked concerned and touched my cheek lightly with her free hand. 

“Y-yes,” I whispered. 

She pressed a kiss to my cheek, adjusted slightly. She never looked away as she wiggled her finger inside me. I was the one who had to briefly close my eyes as I felt her finger brush against that particular spot inside me. My heels digged into the mattress again, and I opened and then closed my hand. 

Bliss kissed my jaw. Brought me back. I opened my eyes and looked at her. 

“God, Ella,” she breathed. Nothing more. 

It suddenly struck me how unfair this situation was. She had showered me in attention. She had somehow managed to do everything I liked, and I was just... taking it. I felt greedy, but then her finger moved again, and I forgot everything. I felt her finger move. Almost slipping out of me only to thrust inside me again and touching me deeper. 

“You alright?” Bliss asked, and I realized that I had gone quiet. I released a puff of air. Perhaps I had even forgotten to breathe for a second. 

“Yes,” I croaked. 

She moved her finger again, and this time it did indeed slip out of me, but every intention of protesting was immediately quelled when I felt a second finger join the first and press lightly against my entrance. I nodded frantically. 

“Look at me,” Bliss reminded me. 

I did, and for the second time, my jaw dropped as she slipped not one but two fingers inside me. I could feel how I tightened around her fingers, but not because she was hurting me. No, I welcomed her. 

“Still good?” she asked as she pressed another kiss to my jaw. 

“Y-yes,” I managed between ragged breaths. 

“Just relax,” she cooed. 

A hysterical giggle slipped past my lips, because how could she suggest that? How could she expect me to relax right now? 

The conclusion to that question was lost to me. She wiggled her fingers again, twisted her hand slightly, so the heel of her hand was pressing snugly against my clit. 

I cried out. Even if I tried, I couldn’t have muffled the sound. What she was doing felt too good. I breathed her name, scrabbled for something to hold on to. She was quick to offer her hand, and I squeezed her fingers once more. Too tightly, but I couldn’t loosen my grip. I couldn’t think. My breath came out in little pants and my back arched. 

She managed to keep herself on top of me through it all. She wasn’t weighing me down in anyway or preventing me from reacting to her. Her fingers thumped against that spot inside me and I felt like I was dying a little bit. The desire low in my belly coiled and threatened to spill over completely. All because of her. All because of what she was doing to me.

“Bliss!” I hissed. Oh, fu.....!

“I’ve got you,” she breathed back. “It’s alright, Ella. Allow yourself.” 

I felt delirious. Completely and utterly delirious. Right now, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’ve had an orgasm, and now I felt myself getting closer and hovering on that precipice. And it felt like she had only just started to touch me. This was what she had reduced me to. She had peeled all the layers away and had left a mess of raw, exposed nerve endings in her wake. The muscles between my thighs tightened dangerously once more, and I whimpered. I felt overwhelmed, but at the same time relieved. Relieved that I was still able to feel like this. 

Bliss’ fingers wiggled inside me again, and I rocked against her hand. She had quickened her pace, and terrified of crushing her hand, I grabbed onto the headboard instead. Each thrust from her fingers send dull frissons of pleasure through my body. Her face was beginning to blur slightly before my eyes, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was crying or about to pass out. Or both. It could very well have been both. I breathed her name again, and then suddenly, I felt myself tighten around her fingers in a way that told me everything I needed to know. My body went completely stiff for a moment as I fought to tether myself to the precipice. I wasn’t completely sure why my body felt like it had to fight this somehow, but I did know that my emotions were all over the place, and I moaned and wriggled as   
I fought the inevitable.

“Ella,” Bliss whispered again and pressed the heel of her hand more firmly against my clit. “Don’t hold back.” 

I didn’t. And I couldn’t. One minute it felt like I was going to snap in half that’s how much I was straining and aching, one minute I was afraid to fully let myself go, and fall over the edge, but the next minute a shout that seemed to come from deep inside me slipped past my lips, and the breath exploded out of my lungs as I finally reached climax. My jaw snapped shut, and a curse word almost slipped past my lips. Yes, I was pushed over the edge, but I wasn’t falling, I was flying. And I wasn’t completely sure how to come back to earth. I cried out again. Yelled her name as I squeezed and squeezed around her fingers. Her mouth was on my jaw, near my ear. She was whispering. Saying my name. Something about how beautiful I looked. 

I couldn’t answer. I had broken my promise to her and had closed my eyes. I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t even be right now. 

A gentle hand peeled mine away from the headboard. Now she was the one to squeeze my fingers. She kissed my jaw again. 

Another rush of breath slipped out of my open mouth, and then my body stopped tensing. I groaned weakly as I felt myself finally relaxing. It felt like someone had removed every muscle, every bone in my body. I melted back against the mattress. Unable to open my eyes, unable to speak. The only thing I could do was feel. Feel as the tingles of pleasure continued to wash over my body like waves. Oh my god. Bloody hell, that was... How can she be this good at touching me?

I huffed out a breath as I felt how every muscle in me seemed to liquify completely. My legs were no longer tensing. Instead they splayed out gracelessly on the mattress. With my eyes closed I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it when Bliss slowly withdrew her fingers from me. I felt her warm hand on my thigh. She was gently caressing me. Perhaps she was trying to bring me back to earth. 

She succeeded. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at her. 

Bliss didn’t say anything. She simply smiled at me. 

I wasn’t completely sure where I got the strength from, but I found myself sitting up, reaching for her, and then pulling her into my arms. She nuzzled her nose against my cheek, and her sweet smelling shampoo filled my nostrils. I cupped her cheeks as I kissed her. Then I shifted, I wanted her to be the one to lie down. 

She quickly got the hint, and her eyes gleamed as she laid back. Her thick, dark hair could almost have been a second pillow. 

I looked at her as she moved her arms down by her side and opened her legs just a bit. She wasn’t shy. Why should she be? Every part of her was perfect. Once again I was struck by how young and beautiful she was. Her breasts were still firm. Her abdomen was flat and toned, and I could see how the muscles rippled every time she took a breath. How could she want me?

It seemed silly to feel self-conscious now, but I couldn’t quite help it as I sat back on my heels and looked at her. And I felt insecure too. I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know how to touch her. 

“I’ve never...” my voice broke, and I had to try again. “I’ve never been with a woman before. I don’t know what to-“ 

“Relax,” Bliss gently interrupted and shifted so she was sitting up too. She took my hand, pressed my palm to her cheek. “Whatever is gonna happen, it’s gonna be amazing, okay?” 

I nodded, but I wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Just follow your instincts,” she said.

My voice was nothing more than a whisper when I said “okay”. Then I kissed her again. Nudged her onto her back once more. Now it was my turn to explore her. My turn to map every part of her body, and I was far better at that than I had expected. She had a soft spot just past the hinge of her jaw, I noted. I spend some time kissing that particular spot, and the effect was glorious. She writhed under my touches, moaned under my kisses as my lips followed a random pattern from her ear to the top of her shoulder. Continued down to dot kisses over her collarbone, lower still. I couldn’t believe that this was really happening. That this was real. But the soft fingers threading through my fingers as I kissed her breast, reminded me that this was indeed real. That I was here with her. That it wasn’t a dream. I was really touching her smooth mocha colored skin. I was really the one who made her moan and whimper. She tugged harder at my hair as I ran the tip of my tongue over her nipple. For a moment I felt insecure again, but it would appear that I didn’t have to be. Bliss moaned my name, almost whimpered as I took her nipple between my lips and sucked lightly. I used my hand to caress her breast, reminded myself to keep my touches gentle. I wanted to do to her what she had done to me. I wanted to make her feel good. No, more than that. I wanted her to feel fantastic.

I kissed my way down her stomach, paused for a moment as I reached her belly button. The way the gemstone shimmered in her navel hypnotized me. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Experimentally, I dotted kisses around the jewelry, and Bliss gasped underneath me. I had clearly found one of her soft spots. Another of her soft spots. 

“Ella!” 

The way she said my name made me feel aroused all over again, but I could easily ignore the tingling sensation. This was not about me. This was about Bliss. 

I took my time like she had done with me. I showered her with attention, fully determined to make her feel as cared for as I had. She deserved to feel cared for. She deserved everything. Everything and more. I don’t know how long I kissed and mapped her body. I don’t know how long I explored every part of her. Hours? Minutes? I didn’t know. But I reveled in the sounds she made with every kiss. The mattress creaked under us once more, and I silently thought to myself that it wouldn’t make an enormous difference if we landed on the floor. The rug was soft. I would simply continue with the task at hand. 

“Ella!” 

I pressed one last kiss to her hip, and then I lifted my head to look at her. She looked so beautiful. Wide eyed, lips parted and panting slightly. I wanted to kiss her lips, so I slowly began my journey upwards. Dotting kisses all over her as I slowly approached my goal. 

By the time I finally reached her lips, she was gasping, and her fingers immediately locked in my hair as I kissed her. I felt how she shifted, parted her legs slightly, and I immediately understood what she was silently trying to tell me. 

Whatever is gonna happen, it’s gonna be amazing. I chose to believe her words as I slowly brought my hand down and cupped her. My hand was immediately greeted by copious wetness. She was dripping onto my hand. 

Bliss wiggled again, and I took the hint. I made sure to look at her as I slowly slipped a finger inside her. I hadn’t tried this before, and I was terrified of hurting her. 

Her lips parted in a silent “O”, but I could tell that she wasn’t in pain. I could tell that what I was doing was right. I needn’t worry about hurting her. She was completely slick with arousal. 

It was quite the different sensation, feeling another woman like this, being enveloped by her like this and feeling soft, velvety walls surrounding my finger, but it felt good too. The look on her face made me ache between my thighs again, and spurred on by that, I wriggled my finger, crooked it slightly. 

The response came immediately. “Oh, god!” she moaned and gripped my shoulder. 

“Am I...” 

“Perfect!” she gasped. “Don’t stop!” 

I didn’t. Instead I twisted my hand so I could press the heel of it against her clit like she had done. I was careful to copy her every move, and the effect was glorious. She squeezed my shoulder and hissed my name. Her hips moved, rocked against my hand. Then she was pulling me closer until I was almost laying on top of her. I didn’t mind that. Nor did I mind the way I suddenly felt her teeth sink into my shoulder. That only increased the ache between my thighs. 

“Ella! Oh, god! Oh, fuck! Ella!” 

So she was a babbler. For some reason that didn’t surprise me at all. I was actually quite surprised she hadn’t made more noise until now. 

Eager to hear her make more noise, I withdrew my finger, but kept it near her entrance to let her know that I wasn’t planning on stopping. She let out another breathy sound as I lined up a second finger along with the first one. I pressed both fingers lightly against her entrance, and she immediately parted her legs further, muttered something that sounded like “fuck yes!”

I slipped the two digits inside her and made sure to twist my hand so I could press the heel of it against her clit once more. I wiggled my fingers, so they were rubbing against that special place inside her. 

I still couldn’t quite believe it. That I was giving her such pleasure. That I was the reason she was panting and squirming on the bed. I used my free hand to brush over her cheek. Her skin almost felt overheated. On fire, like I had been a moment ago. 

Oh, Bliss. What are you doing to me?

She hissed my name, and her back arched, and god she looked so beautiful like this! 

I quickened my pace some, moved my fingers faster within her, and I could feel how she tightened the grip on my shoulder. Her thighs flexed. But it was the look upon her face that told me everything I needed to know. She had squeezed her eyes shut and her lips were parted. She was clearly reaching her own precipice. Chasing her own climax. 

I didn’t say anything. Instead I let my actions speak. I gave her cheek another soft caress. Her skin was burning, and I instinctively knew that the heat inside her was close to spill over completely, and more than anything, I wanted her to let go. I wanted to see her fly. I wanted to see her unravel. I wanted to see her fall apart like I had done a moment ago, and soon my wish came true as another tremor rocked her body. Her muscles spasmed around my fingers, and then she seemed to lock around them, effectively trapping them. She thrashed and yelled my name, her blunt fingernails sank into my shoulders, released this shattered little moan and then she went quiet, even though her body was still trembling.

God, she looks so beautiful. So, so beautiful. I had dreamed of this more times than I cared to admit, but my dreams couldn’t quite measure up to this.

Seeing her come undone and knowing that she looked like that because of me, made me feel all sorts of things. I wanted to see that happen over and over again. 

She whimpered once and then she went quiet again. The hand still on my shoulder grew limp, and then the rest of her grew limp as well. Her eyelashes fluttered. She muttered something that sounded like a garbled “mm!” 

When I determined she was sufficiently relaxed, I slowly withdrew my fingers from within her. I saw how her lungs expanded and she took another deep breath, but she was completely relaxed. 

I looked at my fingers. They were slick with her arousal, and she was glistening between her thighs as well. My imagination immediately overflowed with fantasies, but perhaps now wasn’t the time to fulfill fantasies. I finally picked up on how tired I was. How utterly boneless I felt. 

Bliss looked up at me. Her eyes were still a bit glassy, but she was clearly a hundredth percent there as she breathed: “wow.” 

I chuckled mirthfully. “Not bad for a first time?” 

“Definitely not bad for a first time. C’mere...” her long arms wrapped around me, and then she was pulling me closer. 

I had no problem with settling down next to her. Nor had I any problem with it when she grabbed the duvets and pulled it over us. 

“Don’t want you to be cold,” she mumbled. 

I laughed quietly. “Believe me, cold is the last thing I’m feeling.” 

“Good,” she said simply. She sighed quietly, and then she laid her head down on my chest. 

I ended up running my fingers through her hair, and it didn’t take long before her breath evened out, became slower. I was perceptive enough to figure out that she had in fact fallen asleep with her head resting on my chest. 

I had no problem with that either. It wouldn’t take long before sleep came for me too. 

Another lightening zigzagged across the sky, and a faint rumbling followed, but I paid little attention to that as my eyelids slid closed and my hand grew limp in her hair.......


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Warmth. 

That was the first thing I registered as I slowly drifted back into the world of consciousness. The second thing was the fact that it had stopped raining. I slowly opened my eyes. 

The third thing I registered was the yellow wall behind me as I stretched my neck slowly. The fourth thing was the way my body felt heavy, tired. 

And the fifth thing was the fact that something was preventing me from moving. Something warm and soft was laying on top of me. 

It only took me a few seconds to realize that this warm and soft something was in fact Bliss. I blinked once, twice, and the image of her on top of me became sharper. Last night she had fallen asleep with her head on my chest, I knew that, but I was a little surprised to find out that she had wiggled around during the night and had ended up sleeping on top of me. 

I lifted my hand from her coarse curls and gently rolled her off of me. She didn’t wake. She simply muttered something in her sleep. Her fingers twitched slightly. I wondered what she was dreaming. 

I looked at her as I tried to gauge how I was feeling. My physical state was easily evaluated. I felt tired and a bit sore here and here. Nothing to worry about. No, it was my mental state I was trying to figure out. 

I relaxed and flexed my fingers, ran them through my mussed up hair. How was I feeling? Did I feel ashamed of what had happened last night? 

I carefully searched my brain for the answer and came up empty. No, I did not feel ashamed. What was there to be ashamed of? 

Embarrassed, then? 

Once again, I carefully searched my brain. And once again, I came up empty. I wasn’t embarrassed either. How could I be embarrassed over something that had been so wonderful? 

What about confused then? 

I frowned slightly. Well yes, I supposed I was a bit confused. Not too long ago, I had been very adamant when I was standing in front of my bathroom mirror and telling myself that I wasn’t gay. And now I   
had slept with Bliss. Where exactly did that fit into my belief that I wasn’t interested in women? What sort of conclusion was I supposed to get out of that? That I was gay anyway? I pursed my lips slightly.   
Now I wasn’t too sure. Was I bisexual then? Yes, possibly. But wasn’t that something I was supposed to find out early? Wasn’t that the sort of discovery one made in high school or something like that? 

No. No, I don’t think there are rules when it comes to this. I do believe there are some women who discovers it later. Maybe it isn’t even that uncommon. 

I would have to look into that later. I stretched my body and winced at the faint clicking sound in my back. Something coiled in my belly. Was I feeling guilty? 

The short answer was yes. Yes, I did. The longer answer was somewhat more complicated. 

I felt guilty to Stephen, but it was more of a reflexive feeling, really. I had cheated on him. Of course I felt guilty. That was how things were supposed to be. Twenty one years of marriage, and I went and did this. 

And yet......

I didn’t feel guilty enough. I felt as though I should be feeling more guilt over this, but I didn’t. And that was what I felt guilty about. I felt guilty about not feeling guilty enough. So very complicated. 

I also felt guilty to Bliss. She was so young, just twenty two. What could I possibly give her? I was middle-aged and married. I was supposed to be the responsible one of us. And yet this had happened. Yet we had ended up in bed together. I had nothing to offer her. This was hardly what she had been dreaming of. 

She deserved better than this. She deserved so much more than to be the object of my curiosity. I still had no idea what I was and was not, but one thing I did know: Bliss was not an experiment. She wasn’t just someone I could use to figure out whether I was confused or something else. She was so much more than that. This couldn’t happen again. Because if it did, I would be someone who was playing with her. 

I had to think of the consequences of my actions. Suppose this let me to discover that I wanted different things in life? What was gonna happen then? What about Lucas? What about the life I had built for myself for twenty one years? 

I swallowed. Perhaps I was in the process of discovering that I wanted more than what I already had, but I didn’t know what to do with that discovery. Was I brave enough to go after what I really wanted, or was that sense of security my current life offered so deeply rooted inside me? 

Divorce. The word alone send shivers down my spine. Every member of the Benson family would turn on me. Perhaps even my own son. Supposed he wanted to stay with his father? And if I really chose to leave, where was I supposed to go? To New York? To London? Alone? Could I really do that? 

And what about Bliss? What did she want? Perhaps I was jumping the conclusions. Perhaps I should instead take this for what it was. Sex. Was that how Bliss felt? Had this just been sex and nothing more? 

A casual thing? An itch to scratch? She was twenty two. Surely, she wasn’t thinking that much of it. And definitely not thinking ahead like I did right now. She was far too young to think ahead. 

I swallowed. Get a hold of yourself, Ella. You can’t just think ahead and jump the conclusions simply because someone shows you tenderness and affection. That’s not how this works. 

Affection. My throat felt dry. Something prickled in my eyes. Tenderness. Affection. Nobody had shown me that until now. Until Bliss.... 

I shook my head. I’m getting sentimental. Perhaps I should just leave. Perhaps that would be for the best. I lifted my head and saw my clothes lying scattered all over the floor. The prickling sensation returned. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had wanted me so much, my clothes had ended up scattered on the floor instead of folded neatly on a chair. I shook my head again. I was going weepy. This was definitely my cue to leave.

“Mmmm.” 

I stiffened automatically. Waited. Even held my breath for a moment. The mattress creaked as Bliss shifted, and then she cuddled into me. Lifted a thigh and draped it over my hip. I shivered as the movement reminded me of how close we had been last night. 

For a moment I thought that the exclamation was just her dreaming out loud, but then she shifted again. Her eyelids fluttered, and then coffee colored eyes met mine. 

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was rough with sleep. 

“Hi,” I parroted and averted my eyes. Looked up at the ceiling instead. I wasn’t entirely sure of what else to say. I wasn’t sure whether I should even be here. 

“Wha’cha thinking about?” Bliss asked as her warm fingers came up to touch my cheek. 

“I don’t know,” I said. Even though I did. 

Bliss gently turned my face, so I had to meet her gaze once more. She squinted slightly; a wrinkle appeared between her eyes, and then she shook her head firmly once. 

“Oh, don’t you dare,” she said. Somehow, her voice was still gentle. 

I frowned in confusion. 

“Don’t you dare having seconds thoughts,” Bliss said. “I swear, if that’s what the look in your eyes is about, I will flip a table!” 

I laughed somewhat strangled. “I’m not regretting last night. And I think it’s the lack of regret that makes me feel so guilty.” 

Bliss pecked my cheek once. Her breath was hot and sweet against my skin, and that little gesture alone was enough to make me think back to last night again. Her nimble fingers threated gently through my hair. 

I sighed slightly at this display of affection. 

She answered by humming into my skin and then moving so she could nuzzle her nose against my jaw. 

“What do you want with an old lady like me?” I asked. I still couldn’t comprehend it.

She huffed slightly into my skin, lifted her head to look at me. “You’re not an old lady, Ella. You’re not even middle aged. It’s all in your head.” 

I scoffed in disagreement. 

“But I’ve always been... fascinated with women older than myself,” Bliss said and traced her finger along my collarbone. 

“Why?” I asked plainly. “Why not someone that’s closer to yourself age wise?” 

“Because maturity is hella sexy,” Bliss said and grinned at me. 

“I feel like a cougar,” I said and tried to ignore the way she was tracing her finger along my collarbone. It was very distracting. “Or a cradle robber.” 

“Happy to inform you that you’re neither of those things,” Bliss said. 

Once again, I had to silently disagree with her.

For a moment it seemed like Bliss was contend with just lying there and drawing lazy patterns on my collarbone, but then her fingers stilled as she said. “Tell me something.” 

“Tell you something?” I echoed, unsure of what she meant by that.

“Mmm,” Bliss said and shifted so she was lying next to me instead. She propped herself up on one elbow, so we were face to face once more. “About yourself,” she continued. “I feel like there still are so   
many things I don’t know about you. I know your age, that you paint like a boss, you’re British, that you have a kid. And that I’m crazily attracted to you,” she grinned. “But apart from that...” 

“What do you want to know?” I asked almost cautiously. 

“Anything,” Bliss said briskly. “Start with the beginning. Where did you grow up?” 

“Knightsbridge,” I said. 

“Fancy,” Bliss half-teased. 

I rolled my eyes. 

“Private school?” she guessed. 

“Until I was fifteen,” I admitted. 

She laughed at that. “So, tell me. Why did seventeen year old Ella...” she paused, frowned. “I don’t even know your maiden name.” 

“Evans.” 

“Right. Why did seventeen year old Ella Evans decide to travel all the way to America to go to school?” 

“Well, I can assure you, my parents weren’t thrilled,” I said and chuckled as I thought back to that day where I announced that I had gotten a scholarship. “But I didn’t care about that. I wanted to study art, and I wanted to get away from my parents. Everything sort of added up when I got that scholarship.” 

“Why did you want to get away from your parents?” Bliss asked, and now she was frowning. 

I shrugged as best as I could in my current position. “They weren’t big on the fact that I wanted to study art. And I was a rebellious teenager who had no intention of doing as they asked.” 

“Oh,” Bliss said. “I’m guessing none of them were artists like you?” 

“I’m hardly an artist,” I argued. “But you’re right. My father worked in the Bank of England, and my mother stayed at home.” 

“Got any siblings?” Bliss asked. 

“No, I’m an only child.” 

“Was it just the art thing that made you leave England, or...?” 

“You are perceptive,” I half-praised. “My father could be very strict. I believe his goal was to get me a job in the financial sector or something like that. My mother fully supported that. Sometimes I still   
wonder why. My parents hardly ever agreed on anything.” 

A wrinkle appeared between Bliss’ eyes as she frowned. 

“Their marriage was rocky to say the least,” I said and tried to keep my voice light as I remembered how many times I had woken up at night and heard them whisper-argue in their bedroom. “I suppose   
they had their differences...” I paused and shook my head. 

“What?” Bliss gently prompted. 

“Nothing,” I sighed. “I once just swore to myself that I would never end in a situation where I would argue with my husband after my child had gone to bed. I swore that I would do it better when I got   
married. And now twenty one years later, I’m copying my parents’ marriage. I’m doing exactly what they did.” 

Bliss pecked my jaw again. “Can I ask why you married so young?” 

I drew the covers up to my chest before answering. “Stephen and I dated all through college. It seemed like the right thing to do.” 

“The right thing to do?” Bliss echoed and lifted her head slightly to look at me.

“I wanted to be young when I had children,” I explained. “But I also wanted a couple of years where it was just Stephen and I. A few years where we travelled and explored the world. I wanted to go to Paris and mingle with all the other artists,” I laughed slightly. 

“And did you go to Paris then?” Bliss asked and took my hand. 

“No,” I said and felt like I was giving a very predictable answer. “We were on our honeymoon in Switzerland when the phone suddenly rang. Stephen’s father had passed away after suffering a major heart attack. It was a shock because he hadn’t been ill or anything. We had to end our honeymoon prematurely and return to New York to take care of Stephen’s mother. She was obviously crushed, but honestly-“ I paused. I still felt selfish for admitting it, even after so long.

“What?” Bliss prompted. Her voice was still gentle. 

“So was I,” I quietly admitted. “Stephen had expressed his desire to not wanting to take over the company after his father. He had even said that he would talk to his father about it once we got back from Switzerland. He didn’t want to take on that responsibility. He had found out that he rather wanted to go to Paris with me. But when his father died... the choice had been made for him. He had to start his training immediately after the funeral, and suddenly, we were no longer Stephen and Ella. We were Mr. and Mrs. Benson. And instead of planning the trip to Paris, I had to plan a dinner where I would meet all of Stephen’s future co-workers.” 

“What is it that he do again?” Bliss asked. 

“He’s a CEO,” I answered. “Fully educated by the time he turned twenty five. I didn’t see his face much when fully took over the company.” 

“So, what did you do when he was away?” 

“I painted,” I said and smiled a little. “A lot. I even had plans about opening my own art gallery, but...” 

“What stopped you?” 

“Timing,” I said. “For a few years, I was very happy with painting at home and occasionally selling a painting. By the time I fully dared to explore the idea of opening my own gallery, I had turned twenty   
nine, and not long after, I found out that I was pregnant. We’d had some difficulties in that area, so I was obviously thrilled. And so was Stephen. But it was a difficult pregnancy, so I had to stay in bed. My plan about opening a gallery.... didn’t happen. And after Lucas had been born, it wasn’t an option either. I struggled with postpartum depression and had trouble with bonding with Lucas. And then we moved from New York to Vermont. I had to settle in a completely new place, I had a new baby to take of.... I suppose you could say everything was a bit chaotic. There wasn’t really much time to think about... me.”

“Were you happy?” Bliss asked quietly. 

I shifted so I was sitting more upright in the bed. “We were. But for quite a while, things have been...”

“Tough?” Bliss suggested. 

“Yes. And half of the time I feel responsible for it, because I know how busy he is, and how tired he is when he comes home, so it doesn’t really seem fair that I crave things, and when I do crave things I end up-“ I interrupted myself and shook my head. “I shouldn’t be talking so much about my marriage.”

“I don’t mind listening.” 

“It makes me feel like an arse,” I said and shook my head again. 

“God, you’re so British,” Bliss said and snickered. 

“Oh, bollocks,” I joked. 

That only made her laugh harder. 

I chuckled and stretched my neck, slowly looked to my left, and then to my right. That’s when I noticed the clock radio standing on her bedside drawer, and I immediately yelped as I quickly pulled my legs out of the tangled sheets. 

“It’s half past ten!” I exclaimed. 

“Seriously?” Bliss said and glanced at her clock radio. “Wow. We slept a long time.” 

I didn’t pay attention. Instead I stumbled out of bed and grabbed my underwear. Fumbled more than necessary as I slipped my panties on and then quickly clasped my bra. 

“You don’t want to grab a shower before you leave?” Bliss asked and draped the duvet around her body as she rose from bed. 

“No, I don’t have time for that,” I said rushed as I pulled the camisole over my head and then fumbled to button my blouse. Lucas would get home at eleven. That was what we had agreed on. Worst case scenario was that he would be home before me, and while that was partially acceptable, I couldn’t arrive home with wet hair. That was not acceptable. 

“Oh, bloody-“ I half cursed under my breath as I forced the hem of my blouse into the waistband of my skirt. 

“You don’t want any breakfast either?” Bliss asked.

Very appropriately, my stomach growled and let me know how famished I actually was. But I had to ignore the urge to eat for a little while longer. 

“No, thank you, but I have to get home. My son is coming home, and-“ I grappled for words as I clumsily stepped into my shoes. Now I was dressed, but I doubted I looked as polished and done up as I had done when I arrived last night. 

Bliss silently handed me a hairbrush, and I gratefully took it and then winced as I forced it through my tangled mess of hair. All of me was probably a mess right now. 

“My blazer?” I said bewildered when I noticed that I was one garment short. 

“Downstairs,” Bliss said.

“Oh. Right.” 

She elegantly picked up the bottom of the duvet as she shuffled across the floor, opened the door and then headed towards the staircase. 

I followed her out of the bedroom and tried to ignore the jab I felt in my chest as I turned my back on her yellow wall. 

My blazer was indeed lying downstairs, and I think I flushed as I picked it up and shrugged it off. My hands were trembling some as I brushed the dust off it. 

Bliss silently watched me as I buttoned the blazer and then smoothened a hand over my hair. Once that was done, I turned my head to look at her. She looked so beautiful as she stood there, wearing only the duvet wrapped around her and with her hair a mess of wild curls. It hurt that I had to leave her like this. 

“I have to see you again,” she said plainly. 

I wetted my lips and I fumbled more than necessary as I buttoned my coat.

“Wait for me after the next art lesson,” Bliss said and stepped forward. She took my hand and squeezed it slightly. 

Everything in me wanted to say yes, absolutely, but wasn’t this madness? Wasn’t this absolutely crazy?

“Please?” Bliss said quietly. “Ella, the way I feel about you is....” she brought my hand up to her lips and kissed it lightly. 

I abandoned every attempt at common sense. I didn’t feel like running away anymore. What good would it do anyway? “It’s my turn next time.” 

“Your turn......?” 

“To find out more about you,” I said and flashed her a smile. 

She perked up at that. “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” I confirmed. “You’re not the only one who’s curious.” 

A smile blossomed on her lips. “So you’ll wait for me after the next art lesson?” 

“Yes. Absolutely,” I confirmed and returned her smile. 

She laughed a little, and then she leaned in and kissed me. 

I was quick to return the kiss, but I was surprised to find myself wincing at the gesture. 

“Oops. Sorry,” Bliss said sheepishly. 

“What do you mean?” I asked and frowned as she stepped away from me once more. 

“Your lips are a bit... swollen.” 

I instinctively brought a hand up to my lips. And she was right. My lips were indeed puffy. I flushed again. 

“It suits you,” Bliss smirked. “You look very sexy like that.” 

I shook my head. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called me sexy. It wasn’t normally a word I connected with myself, but the way Bliss said it was strangely appealing. 

“I have to go,” I said. 

She nodded. “Text me?” 

I ended up agreeing to that. 

*****************

I made it home before Lucas did, and the first thing I did was checking my phone. I hadn’t done that since last night. There was a message from Delia and three missed calls from Stephen. I tensed for a moment as I waited for the wave of guilt to wash over me. 

It didn’t happen. I felt completely calm. As though I was in some sort of bubble were guilt wasn’t welcome. 

Perhaps I should feel guilty about that. 

Coming to think about it, I was actually annoyed. We had had a relatively bad argument that had ended with me hanging up on him, and he had only tried to reach me three times. Three times. Was he really that disinterested? 

Now, now. You didn’t call him back either. 

I clenched my jaw slightly as I stalked upstairs to the bathroom. I was quick to remove my clothes. I desperately needed a shower and felt every bit relieved when the warm water started to pour down over me. I grabbed the loofah and quickly began spreading the soap over my body. Then I shivered lightly. As I let the loofah touch different parts of my body, I found myself thinking back to last night. I thought of how Bliss had touched me. How each touch had made me flicker until she had pushed me over the edge and the flickers had turned into a bonfire. I shivered again. The memories of last night made something stir in my belly, and I felt a twinge of arousal between my thighs. I was flabbergasted. My sex drive had been dormant for a very long time, and now I suddenly found myself getting aroused after everything that had happened last night. Had Bliss put some sort of spell on me? 

I wondered about that as I quickly washed my hair, but I reached no conclusions. None other than I already missed her. However silly that was. 

I forced myself to think of something else and reminded myself to either call or text Delia once I was done showering. We hadn’t spoken much lately, and I wanted to rectify that. 

By the time Lucas came home I was showered and re-dressed in a pair of comfortable yoga pants and a tanktop. My hair was tied back in a low ponytail and I was desperately trying to think of something else. That was why I had perched myself on the sofa with my sketchbook. For once, I wasn’t drawing Bliss. I was drawing the flowers on the coffee table, and I tried to tell myself that the motive wasn’t boring. 

I looked up when I heard the familiar slam from the door. Shoes being kicked off in the hallway. A coat being unzipped and then hung on the coat rack. Then my son came into the sitting room. 

“Hi, honey,” I greeted. 

“Hi, mum,” he said and suffocated a yawn. No doubt he and Trevor had talked until 1 in the morning. 

“Did you have a good time with Trevor?” I asked as I put my pencil down as well. 

“Yeah, it was really- what happened to your lips?” he asked and frowned. 

“I ate a salad with nuts for dinner last night,” I said and almost winced. I was lying to my son. 

“Oh. Was it peanuts?” he asked understandingly. 

“Yes, exactly. Testing whether I was still allergic or not was a bad idea. Lesson learned.” 

He chuckled lightly and then asked: “have you heard from dad today? ‘Cause he called me last night, but my phone ran out of battery before I could answer.” 

“No, I haven’t heard from him today,” I said. “But I’m sure he would have called again if it was something important.” 

“Yeah, right. Do you know when he’s coming home?” Lucas asked and scratched his cheek slightly. I immediately caught myself looking for a stubble there. His voice had already broken several times   
during this conversation. It would only be a matter of time before I couldn’t recognize his voice. 

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “He hasn’t really said anything.” 

“Right. Of course not,” Lucas said, and now he was scowling. 

“Lucas,” I admonished. 

“He’s never home,” Lucas said sharply. 

“He’ll be back from Los Angeles soon,” I said. “And then you and he will spend some time together.” 

“Mmm, yeah, while he looks at his phone,” Lucas spat. 

“Lucas, please.” 

That seemed to deflate his attitude some. “I’m sorry, mum,” he sighed. “I’m just tired of him never being here.” 

“Yes,” I said simply as I rose from the couch and went over to him. I hesitated before draping an arm over his shoulder, but for once he didn’t shake it off. 

Lucas was still moody come Monday, and it didn’t exactly help that we didn’t hear a peep from Stephen. Once again, I was cross on behalf of my son, but said son insisted that he was fine. No, he didn’t want a ride to school. He was fine with taking the bus like he always did, so I let him. Even though I was worried. For his sake, I hoped that Stephen would call soon. I myself wasn’t particularly interested in talking to my husband. For various reasons. 

After having send my son to school, I ended up sitting in front of the television and staring blankly at the dark screen. I couldn’t find rest. I didn’t feel like drawing. I didn’t feel like watching television or read. I didn’t feel like going for a run even though it would probably be good for me. 

I knew what I did want to do. I wanted to drive to Charlotte and see Bliss right now. But I couldn’t do that either. I couldn’t just run off in the middle of the day. Instead I found my phone and began typing.   
I had promised to text her, but yesterday had sort of disappeared in worrying about my son. 

“Hello.” 

It didn’t take much longer than a minute before my phone buzzed. I quickly checked the message. 

“Hi!” 

I smiled a little.

“Am I interrupting you?”

Again, the reply came immediately. 

“No, not at all. I’m so happy to hear from you. Had me worried when you didn’t text yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. Things got in the way.” 

“Okay. So it wasn’t because of me? I was afraid I had done something wrong.” 

I almost scoffed at that. 

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“So, I’ll still see you tomorrow after the lesson?”

“Yes, absolutely.” 

“Awesome!” 

I chuckled quietly. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“Thinking about you. Obviously.”

Now I rolled my eyes. 

“Be serious.”

“I am. Deeply serious. How can I think of anything but you after the weekend? I’ve might have re-lived a few moments or two.” 

I blushed and something warm sizzled down my spine at the reminder. 

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that too. A lot, actually.” 

I wanted nothing more than to continue the conversation, but a knock on the door interrupted me, and I groaned quietly as I reluctantly rose from the sofa. Who on earth could that be? I wasn’t expecting anyone. Oh god. For a moment I imagined it being Kate stopping by to discuss “the running club.” Oh, god no. Anything but that.

Dreading the worst I went out in the hall, but my fears were quickly punctuated as I opened the door. 

“Delia!” I exclaimed, delighted and surprised. “What- I- wasn’t I supposed to drive up to your place next weekend?” 

“You were,” she grinned and flicked her red hair over one shoulder. “But it’s been ages, and I’ve missed you, so are you gonna let me in or what, darling?” 

“Yes. Yes, of course. Come on in,” I said and stepped aside. 

She smiled broadly as she went into the hall, and before even discarding of her coat, she gave me a hug. 

“We’ve been out of touch for too long,” she proclaimed as she released me and went into the sitting room. 

“Yes, we have,” I agreed and followed her. 

Delia looked around. “No Stephen?” 

“No, he’s still in Los Angeles. His trip got extended from three weeks to four. I think there was some problems.” 

“Ah,” Delia said and rolled her green eyes. “Typical. But I suppose that means you and I can talk unbothered.” 

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“Come and sit down,” she said briskly and patted the sofa. 

I ignored her request. “Do you want something to eat? Drink? I’ve got tea and coffee and-“ 

“Ella, come and sit down,” Delia half-laughed. “I don’t need anything. Except for a chat with my best friend.” 

I chuckled. “Well, I’ve got plenty of talk too.” then I sat down next to her. 

“So?” she prompted as soon as I was seated. “Give me a life-update. It’s been too long since I’ve last had one of those.” 

“Now just a moment,” I said. Partially to buy myself some time, but also because I had just remembered something. “You were going to tell me something next weekend when I was supposed to drive up to   
see you.” 

“Yes, I was,” Delia confirmed and grinned. “But I’m trying to be polite.” 

“Delia...” I insisted. I could see that my best friend was bursting to tell me something. Her eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were glowing. 

She fought valiantly to get me to talk first, but I insisted, and after not too long, she said: “oh, alright,” and then revealed. “I’m pregnant.” 

“Delia!” I exclaimed and nearly fell off the sofa in my eagerness to hug her. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful! How far along are you?” 

“Fourteen weeks today,” she said as she returned my hug. “I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to share it with you over the phone, and-“ 

“I understand,” I quickly said and then hugged her again for good measurements. “I am so, so happy for you and Tom!” 

“We’re thrilled,” Delia said and then paled slightly as she added: “and terrified.” 

I laughed. “Nonsense. You are going to be wonderful parents. Both of you.” 

“You really mean it?” Delia said and put a hand on her stomach. 

“Yes! Absolutely!” 

She sighed and shook her head. “I know it’s crazy because we’ve tried and tried for so long, but now I think that things are happening too fast all of the sudden, and-“ 

I laughed heartedly and interrupted her. “That’s what it’s like to be a parent. Get used to it.” 

“Oh good god,” Delia said and mock shuddered. 

I chuckled again. 

Beep-beep-beep-beep.

“Someone is trying to reach you,” Delia commented and glanced at my phone. 

“It can wait,” I said quickly. 

It was her turn to laugh. “Ella, the world isn’t gonna come to an end if you check your phone while having me over. I’m not a fancy guest or your mother in law. Just check your goddamn phone. Before I do it for you.” 

“We really can’t risk that,” I tried my best to joke, but the fear behind the joke was very genuine as I plucked the phone off the coffee table and checked the message. 

‘I can’t wait to see you again.’

I failed utterly at quelling a smile as I quickly texted back:

‘I can’t wait to see you too.’

‘I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since you left.’

‘I’ve been thinking about you too.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course I have. How could I not?’

‘God, Ella. I don’t think you know just how crazy you drive me!’

“What are you giggling about?” 

I quickly looked up and met Delia’s gaze. She was eying me curiously. 

“Nothing,” I said quickly. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that Stephen texting you?” 

“Yes,” I lied. 

She scoffed. “Liar.” 

“Delia!” 

She ignored that. “Is there something I should know?” 

“No,” I said, but my voice broke completely. 

Delia sighed deeply. “Ella. Darling. You’re my best friend and I love you, but you can’t lie even if your life depended on it, so why don’t you just tell me already?” 

“I....” my voice cracked again. “I’m not sure what to say.” 

“Well, how about you start with telling me who’s texting you?” Delia suggested, and now her voice was gentle. Patient. 

I could do that. “It’s uhmm... Her name’s Bliss.” 

“Bliss?” Delia echoed and frowned. 

“Yes. She’s the one from-“ 

“Oh yes, the girl you go to art class with,” Delia interrupted. “I remember her.”

“She’s actually the model,” I said quite unnecessary. I wasn’t completely sure why that was relevant.

Delia raised an eyebrow. “Really? Oh well. Brave of her. I wouldn’t have dared it, but each to their own, right?” 

“Right.” 

“I didn’t know you and she were such good friends,” Delia said and tilted her head slightly. 

“Yes, we’re.... friends.” 

It was impossible not to pick up on my tone, and it didn’t take long before Delia said: “Ella, what’s going on? You are acting very peculiar.” 

I took a deep breath. “Do you remember that night where I invited the other art students out for drinks?” 

“Yes, I remember,” Delia chuckled. “You were fairly tired the next morning.” 

“I was,” I acknowledged. “But not just because I was hungover. Something happened that night. Something I haven’t told you about.” 

“Really?” Delia said and raised an eyebrow again. Her curiosity was sparked. “And what was that?” 

“Bliss and I-“ my voice failed again, and I hastily cleared my throat before continuing. “Bliss and I kissed each other that night.”

Delia’s mouth fell open, and her green eyes widened almost comically. “Ella Benson, you’re kidding me right now.” 

“No, I’m not,” I said quietly, suddenly dreading her reaction. 

“You kissed?” Delia exclaimed and her voice went slightly shrill. 

“Yes,” I whispered. “I mean, we were both drunk, obviously, but...” 

“But what?” Delia asked. She could sense that I had gotten nervous. Her voice was gentler now. 

“It... It meant something,” I mumbled and felt a flush creep up my neck. 

Delia leaned forward slightly. “Are you saying that you...” 

“I... I like her, Delia,” I admitted. ”I like her a lot.” 

“My god,” Delia said and shook her head a little. 

“And I know that makes me an awful person,” I said as I jumped up from the sofa to walk around in the sitting room. “Because obviously, I absolutely should not feel what I’m feeling for her, but I can’t   
help it, Delia. It snuck up on me. I didn’t realize it until it was too late, and I know that I should just have forgotten all about it instead of having kissed her again and going back to her house with her, but   
I didn’t, and that makes me an awful person, because I don’t want to give her up, Delia! I don’t want to just pretend that everything is-“ 

“For god’s sake, sit down, woman!” Delia interrupted. “And stop rambling! Does it look like I’m judging you?” 

I snapped my jaw shut. No, it did not look like Delia was judging me. She looked completely calm. 

“And what’s all that talk about more kisses and going back to her place?” Delia asked, and I swear she was smirking slightly now. 

I blushed again as I followed her order and sat down. “Maybe it would be better if we talked about something else. Like your baby, for example.” 

“I don’t think so,” Delia said. “There’s more to this story, and you’ll tell me the rest right now.” 

So I told her. I told her about how Bliss had confronted me, and how we had ended up kissing before the art lesson. I told her about our “date” at the gallery. I told her about going back to her place afterwards and then leaving just as fast. I told Delia about my plan to ignore Bliss and forget everything about her. Then I told Delia about the argument I’ve had with Stephen this Saturday, how I had ended up hanging up on him, how upset I had been, and how I had ended up driving over to Bliss’ place. I was slightly embarrassed as I told my best friend about how Bliss had more or less let me weep all over me and then consoled me. 

“She sounds like a very sweet person,” Delia said. 

“She is,” I nodded and fiddled with my hands. 

“Is there more?” Delia asked, easily picking up on the nervous gesture. 

“No,” I lied pathetically.

“Yes there is,” she scoffed. “You have to take a class in lying before you start telling shit. Out with it.” 

“I might have...” I silently cursed as I ended up picking nail polish off my nail because of the nervous tick. Damn it. Now I would have to re-do it. 

“You might have what?” Delia said, now slightly impatient. 

“Slept with her,” I said quietly and so rushed it came out slurred and distorted. ‘Sleptwithher’. 

“Come again?” Delia said, and her eyebrows rose until they nearly disappeared into her hairline. 

I clenched my jaw, and the next sentence came out muffled because of that. “I think you heard me the first time.” 

“You slept with her?!” 

“A little bit.” 

“A little bit?” Delia mocked. 

“More than a little bit,” I amended. 

My best friend downright cackled at that. “My, my. Well, that certainly explains why you were grinning like an idiot when you checked your phone.” 

“That wasn’t what we were texting about,” I defended, even though it had been bloody close to being about just that. 

Delia laughed heartedly but then sobered up: “how are you feeling?” 

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Confused. Happy. Guilty about not feeling guilty. Does that even make sense? I mean, I’m having an a-affair. I should be feeling guilty, but-“

“You don’t have to figure everything out right now,” Delia said and patted my hand lightly. 

“Yes, I do,” I protested. “Of course I do. I’m a married woman, for god’s sake.” 

Delia abruptly rose from the sofa. “I’m going to make us some tea,” she announced. “And then you’re gonna tell me everything. Every last detail you haven’t told me yet.” 

The way she said it made me pause. “Details about what, exactly?”

She cackled on her way into the kitchen. “Oh, you know.... Everything.” 

“Delia!” I protested and shielded my face in my hands as I flushed all over again.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

That Tuesday I woke up full of expectation. I actually felt quite energetic as I hopped out of bed and into the shower. I might even have hummed a little to myself as I shampooed my hair and then spent an indecent amount of balsam to ensure that it was soft and smooth by the time I was done washing it. 

Something fluttered pleasantly in my belly as I rubbed a towel over my hair. I wasn’t giving my hair permission to air dry today. I even brought out the hair dryer. And once my hair had reached that half-dry state, I sprayed it with just a dash of that hairspray I hardly ever used. Only for special occasions. It didn’t take me long to decide that today was a special occasion. Who said it wasn’t anyway? 

The result was quite satisfying. When I was done, my hair was hanging in soft curls, framing my face nicely. But that wasn’t the only change. Taking a closer look at my reflection, I immediately noticed that my eyes were wider than normally. And they were gleaming with a spark I only faintly recognized from long ago. I shook my head slightly. My cheeks were slightly rosy as well. 

I realized that I was glowing. And in a very literal fashion too. 

What had happened to me? This wasn’t normal for me. Usually, I would slob around in my pajamas and with unkept hair at this time. I wouldn’t rush to the bathroom 

I moved along to do my makeup. A bit of mascara. Just a dash of eyeliner to make me look awake, and then a little bit of that raspberry lipstick. The color was more vibrant than what I would normally wear during the daytime, but the color suited me, so I decided that the choice was entirely appropriate. 

I was just in the middle of ensuring that neither my lipstick nor mascara was smudged, when the familiar creak of the doorknob being pressed down interrupted me. I paused and waited. I didn’t have to wait for long. Not long after, there was not one but two sharp knocks on the door. I chuckled slightly as I carefully wiped under my eye with a fingertip. Someone was impatient to get in.

Another knock on the door, and then: “mum! Can I come in soon?” 

“Won’t be a moment,” I called back and resumed the examination of my appearance. 

Lucas groaned outside the door. “Hurry up!” 

“In a second,” I assured him. And after a few more complaints from him, I scrunched up my hair once last time, sat my mascara aside and then tightened the bathrobe around me as I went over to the door   
and unlocked it. 

Lucas’ disgruntled face appeared on the other side of the door. “Finally,” he complained. 

I wasn’t at all bothered by his attitude. “What’s the rush, young man?” 

“I don’t want to be late,” he scowled as he brushed past me. Ten seconds later, the door to the bathroom slammed forcefully behind him. 

I quelled another chuckle. Lucas was definitely not a morning person. Not even in the slightest.

I left my son to get ready, and then I went back into the bedroom and closed the door behind me. I frowned as I opened the closet. What to wear today? I wanted to look nice. No, scratch that. I wanted to look better than nice. I had settled for “nice” for a long time now. I deserved to look good. 

At least the underwear was easily taken care of. I discarded the robe and slipped on a pair of red lace panties. Next was the bra, and I shook my head ever so slightly as I looked myself in the full figure mirror. That was me alright, wearing red lace panties and matching bra. I couldn’t remember the last time I had worn a push up bra. But I could remember the exact reason I had stopped wearing them. I had gotten the idea that it made me look silly. It made me look like I was pretending. 

It didn’t. I made me look good. I would have to buy more push up bras in the very near future. 

I quickly rolled my stockings on, careful not to tear through the fabric, and then I examined the dresses in my closet. What to choose? There were actually several possibilities, and I caught myself wondering why I always settled for wearing yoga pants. What had happened to the woman who enjoyed putting on a dress for no damn reason? Why did there have to be an occasion? Why had I made that a rule? Now it seemed silly. 

I ended up going green. Quite literally. I found a bottle green pencil dress hiding between two other dresses, and before I could get the chance to think too much about it, I slipped my arms through the sleeves. Struggled a bit with the tricky zipper in the back. Perhaps that was the reason why I hadn’t worn it often. Perhaps I had found the zipper in the back to be difficult. 

After a few attempts I managed to zip the dress, though, and when I turned around to look at myself in the mirror, I had to admit that I looked good. Better than good. I turned around and twisted my neck slightly to see the effect of the zipper. Why on earth haven’t I worn this dress more often? The zipper down the back might have been difficult, but it definitely made me look good. Made all of me look good. I could suddenly see the effect of all the running I’ve been doing lately. Parts of my body that hadn’t been very firm before, were suddenly quite firm now. 

I turned around again and examined the front of the dress. The neckline was, well.... While it wasn’t outrageous, it certainly left certain things on display. But I wasn’t about to change out of the dress. Not after the trouble I’ve just had with zipping the damn thing. 

I turned my back on my reflection and headed for the stairs.

Lucas was already sitting at the table, eating his cereals with one hand and scrolling on his phone with the other, but he looked up when I came into the kitchen. 

“Are you ready for the school trip?” I asked and referred to the thing he had been talking about for a few weeks now. 

“Field trip,” he corrected and snickered. “We’re not in England, mum.” 

“Right then,” I said and rolled my eyes slightly. “Are you ready for the field trip then?” 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“You’ve got your backpack?” 

“Yes.” 

“You’ve remembered to pack your blue jacket?” 

“Yes.” 

“And the black one in case the weather gets cold? You’ve got your bottle of water? Have you found the snacks I packed for you in the fridge? They were on the top shelf-“ 

“Mum,” Lucas interrupted, half annoyed, half amused. “I have everything, alright? You don’t have to worry.” 

“Alright, alright,” I surrendered and glanced briefly at the kettle as I waited for the water to boil. Then I turned around slightly and looked at Lucas. “Are you looking forward to the camping trip?” 

Lucas shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t start to rain.” He glanced out of the window and narrowed his eyes slightly at the grey sky. 

I silently shared his concern. The weather was getting chillier. There was a whisper of autumn in the air.

The kettle started to whistle, and I quickly poured some of the hot water into a teacup. Then I dunked the teabag into the cup and waited while my tea reached the desired strength. Once that had happened, I opened the fridge and found the milk. It was strangely satisfying to watch as I poured the milk into the tea.

“You look nice,” Lucas said. 

I whipped my head around and smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“No,” I said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Only to my art lesson.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “All of that for an art lesson?” 

“Now, now,” I scolded mildly. “There is nothing wrong with making an effort. No matter where you’re going.” 

“Right,” Lucas said and shot me a look that clearly indicated that he didn’t understand me. 

I did nothing to try and explain things for him. Instead I stuffed two pieces of bread into the toaster. And while I waited for the bread to finish, I sat down across Lucas and sipped my tea. Asked him more question about the school camping trip. The fact that only one teacher would be accompanying the whole class worried me a little, but Lucas simply rolled his eyes when I expressed my concern. 

“Mum,” he scoffed. “We’re going to Little River State Park. It’s like, the safest place on earth. Seriously, what should possibly happen there?” 

“Of course I don’t think that anything is gonna happen, but-“ 

“Your phone is buzzing,” Lucas interrupted, and looked quite relieved. 

He was right. My phone was indeed vibrating scratchily on the table. I quickly grabbed it and swiped a finger over the screen to unlock it. One new message. I couldn’t quell a smile as I read the text:

‘Can’t wait to see you later 😊’

The toaster made a faint popping sound, but I postponed retrieving my toast for a second as I answered the message: 

‘I’m looking forward to seeing you too.’

The response came immediately.

‘A lot?’

Another smile blossomed on my lips as I confirmed Bliss’ suspicion. 

‘Yes, a lot. But I believe you already knew that.’

She answered with some sort of winking smiley, and I almost laughed out loud at that. I wasn’t particularly used to use emojis in my text conversations. So many new things were happening. 

“Who are you texting?” Lucas asked. 

My head immediately snapped up. He only sounded half-interested, but the question was still enough to make me snap out of it. 

“Delia.” Stop lying to him. 

“Oh. How’s she doing? The baby’s doing okay?” 

“Yes, she’s fine. They’re both fine,” I said and cringed slightly. I was lying to my son. And I didn’t feel very good about that. In many ways, it was a relief that Delia knew the truth. Even if it meant that I had to endure her teasing. She had asked me about a million questions. Some of them I had answered, but some of them I had plain refused to answer while blushing profusely. And of course that had only prompted her to ask more questions. While laughing shamelessly. 

But it hadn’t all been fun and teasing. Both Delia and I had grown quite serious as we had broached the subject called The Future. Delia was quite clear in her opinion. To her, it was as clear as day: my marriage was over. And according to Delia, it had been for a long time. Of course I knew that things hadn’t exactly been easy between Stephen and I for the past... Well. I couldn’t really remember for how long things had been like this, but the idea of divorce made my stomach cramp. Ending my marriage. Starting over after twenty one years of marriage. I had no idea how to do that, and I was afraid. Afraid of facing the unknown. 

And yet something that Delia had said kept haunting me. 

‘Can you imagine yourself living in this house in twenty one years from now? Can you imagine yourself still running up the stairs and fetching papers for Stephen whenever he calls and ask for them? Can you see yourself sticking to the same routine for another twenty one years?’

The answer to that question was simple. No. No, I couldn’t. There were many things I was unsure of, but I knew that I wanted more. I wanted something else than what I had right now. Something different. 

But I wasn’t completely sure how to say all that out loud. Stephen had called once late last night. So late, I had gone to bed and he had left a message on my voicemail. I hadn’t been able to reach him today. And honestly, that was a relief. I just knew that it would be different to talk to him now, and I couldn’t exactly tell this to his voicemail. Not that I was completely sure of what to tell him, really. 

There were so many reasons to be in doubt about this. Lucas was my main concern and interest. He would be devastated if Stephen and I really decided to divorce. It would turn his entire world upside down. Stephen owned the house. If we really decided to do this, I couldn’t stay here. And what about custody over Lucas? Suddenly the toast dried up in my mouth, became tasteless. 

“Mum? Mum?”

I quickly looked up. “Yes?” 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Yes,” I said immediately. No other answer was ever acceptable. “I’m fine.” 

“Okay,” he said. He clearly didn’t believe me, so I immediately flashed him a reassuring smile. 

He glanced at his phone. “The bus will be here in five minutes. I better go.” 

“Alright. Have a nice trip. Don’t forget to text every night.” 

“Mum.” 

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” I said plainly. 

“Right,” he said and rolled his eyes dramatically. “I’ll text you. Every night. Geez, you make it sound like I’m going to be away for a month and not a week.” 

I laughed at how disgruntled he sounded. “You’re sure you remembered everything?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. Behave yourself and listen to your teacher, alright?” 

“Yes, I’ll make sure to sneak away from my teacher and drink beer every night,” he teased. 

I scowled, and he laughed all the way into the hallway. A moment later, I heard the door slam as he left. 

I chuckled quietly to myself and took another sip of my tea only to cringe a second later. It had gone from hot to lukewarm. Perhaps I should have concentrated on drinking it instead of speculating. There was a fair chance that I would go crazy if I kept speculating. I naively hoped that the answer would magically come to me by some miracle. That suddenly, everything would be crystal clear to me. 

A naïve hope indeed. 

I wrapped my fingers around the teacup and sighed slightly. Did I even know what I was doing? 

Perhaps it was a mistake to speculate too much about that too. I didn’t want to puncture the soap bubble I had been living in since Saturday. I didn’t want to give up the feeling of unadulterated happiness. 

I didn’t want to let go of that in favor of that little voice in the back of my mind that kept repeating you need to sort everything out, you need to get your things together and decide what to do. 

I childishly shook my head. Not today. 

My phone beeped again, and I was immediately pulled out of my thoughts. I smiled as I checked the message. Bliss again. She was telling me how slow the past two days had been for her. How she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me. I shook my head in sheer disbelief as I texted back and told her that I felt the same. How could it be that this beautiful young woman were thinking about me? I still couldn’t quite believe it, and if it hadn’t been for the she had kissed me, the way she had touched me, I would accuse her of lying. 

But this wasn’t a lie. I knew that. I could feel it in my very bones. 

I had never looked more forward to the art lesson than I did today....

Finally, the waiting was over, and I could feel how I bubbled with excitement as I left the house and hopped into the car to drive to my destination. I had my sketchbook and my arsenal of pencils and colors, and everything in me was aching to see Bliss again. 

I switched the radio on and absentmindedly hummed along. I knew the melody, but not the exact words, so humming was all I could do, really. 

As I neared my destination, I noted that my palms were going sweaty. I was excited. Almost nervous. A very small and silly part of me was convinced that Bliss somehow would feel differently when she saw me. 

Silly nonsense. Silly, silly nonsense, I scolded myself and turned the volume up a notch. Just to make the music loud enough to drown my thoughts. I shouldn’t be so negative. 

***************

I was early again. This time on purpose. I wanted to be here early. Relief seeped through me as I parked the car in front of the building. I unbuckled my seatbelt and then examined my face in the mirror. I still looked good. Neither my mascara nor my lipstick were smudged. My hair was still hanging in soft curls, framing my face nicely. I should wear my hair like this more often, I mused to myself as I carefully ran a finger through it. Just to make sure that no stray hairs were sticking out anywhere. 

Once that was done, I looked out of the window. The sky looked grey and dark. It would probably start to rain any moment. Best getting out of the car before it starts pouring then.

I did just that, and my high heels clacked loudly against the ground as I hurried towards the door, hoping to beat the rain. 

Fortunately enough, I made it inside without having to endure an encounter with the rain. But only just. The second I closed the door behind me, I heard the first sound of rain against the windows. For now, it was just a light rain, but it would undoubtedly start pouring in a few moments. 

There was a faint smell of baking powder inside our little “art room”, the baking class had probably left only moments ago. I wrinkled my nose in disdain at the sharp smell. It was a pity that I couldn’t open the window and get a bit of fresh air in here. I chuckled quietly to myself. While my studio was small and couldn’t really be considered an actual studio, at least it was delightfully free of the smell of baking powder. That was a luxury. And the walls were lilac. Another luxury. I shifted slightly on my feet as I suddenly found myself considering how I would decorate another studio in another house. Or flat. I wouldn’t mind that. I’ve lived in an flat before. I could do it again. In fact I think I would enjoy it. Very much. Maybe that could actually- 

“God!” I completely lost track of my train of thoughts and yelped, half in terror, half in surprise when a pair of hands suddenly landed on my hips. I had been so lost in thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t alone in the room. 

“I’m sorry,” Bliss said as she moved her hands away from my hips again. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you knew I was here.” 

“It’s alright. No harm done,” I assured her and ignored the way my heart was still pounding in my chest. I turned around to face her. 

She smiled and fiddled with the belt in the white bathrobe. “Damn,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “You look amazing.” 

“Thank you,” I said and smiled a little. 

“I mean, just look at you,” she continued and her coffee colored eyes gleamed. 

Now I chuckled. I wanted to touch her, but this wasn’t her house. This was a public area. I wasn’t quite sure how much and how little I could do here. Yes, we might have kissed each other a few times here already, but that was before......

Bliss wasn’t in doubt about anything. “God, I missed you,” she said, and then she closed the gap between us and kissed me. And it was not just a light peck. No, she threw her arms around my neck, and I gasped in pure surprise. I wasn’t prepared to feel her body so close to mine. Her curls tickled my cheek, and for a moment I allowed myself to forget everything as I kissed her. Her sweet scent worked like oxygen and something else. Kissing her immediately reminded me of the night we had spent together, how our bodies had tangled together. I gasped slightly into the kiss as I felt the first flicker of arousal low in my stomach. She had bewitched me. That was the only explanation for this. I could barely recognize my body. Had forgotten that it was capable of doing this, feeling this. 

Forcing myself to snap out of it, I broke the kiss and gently pushed her away. “The others will be here soon,” I said breathlessly. 

“Mmm, I know,” Bliss said. And then she leaned in and stole another kiss. 

Suddenly, I felt very tempted to skip the lesson, take her hand and then suggest we drove back to her place, but once again, I forced myself to be sensible. My fellow art students were on their way. Perhaps they were already arriving right now. And if they saw Bliss and I leave the place together... Well, I was certain that my fellow art students were smart people. 

“Mmm!” I heard myself moan slightly into her mouth, and my plan about stopping what I was doing, was completely disrupted when Bliss’ hand suddenly slipped lower and ended up on my rear. I wasn’t used to being touched like that, but I could immediately sense that I didn’t mind it. If anything, it only made me feel more aroused. My head was going ever so slightly fuzzy. She was so warm. Warmth seeped from her palms through my dress, into my very skin, and suddenly the idea of removing her bathrobe and do things to her wasn’t half-crazy. I cupped her cheeks as our kiss naturally deepened and grew more passionate. And definitely more desperate on my part, because god, how I had missed her! But Bliss didn’t mind that. She squeezed my rear slightly and I moaned into the kiss again. I could feel that all too familiar ache between my thighs. Like a fireplace, my body flickered. Because of her. She awakened me in ways that left me quite breathless but unwilling to break the kiss and breathe. 

Things could easily have progressed from there, the kiss could easily have led to something else, and what stopped us wasn’t my hesitance, it was footsteps hastily approaching. 

Bliss and I quickly broke apart. And just in the nick of time. Griselda stepped inside, huffing slightly under her breath as she wrestled the chair inside the room. 

“Oh. Two early birds,” she commented when she saw us. 

Both Bliss and I smiled at that. 

Soon the rest of the class showed up, and I had to endure Gus calling me “Brittie” once again. I could see that it amused Bliss, so maybe it was worth it. 

We weren’t “allowed” to joke around for long, though. Soon Griselda reminded us that “time was ticking”. We quickly found our sketchbooks and sat down, ready to start. 

Griselda signaled to Bliss, and in response to that, Bliss took of her robe and bared herself like she had done so many times. 

I had to look down as the sight of her naked body immediately reminded me of what had happened between us. How she had touched me that night, and how I had touched her. Every touch, every caress stood laser-sharp in my mind, and I silently wondered how I was supposed to actually draw her today. How was I supposed to do that, when I couldn’t look up at her? I was certain that my body would betray me if I did. 

But of course looking up was inevitable. I couldn’t just sit here at a sketching class and not sketch. Eventually, I had to look up. And as soon as I did that, I knew I had made a mistake. She was looking at me. How none of the others couldn’t see it, I didn’t quite understand, because it wasn’t exactly something you could miss. It was impossible to not notice how her pupils were blown wide and how she was shifting slightly on her chair. Discreetly, so no one would notice. Unless they were looking directly at her. Like I was right now. 

I licked my dry lips. The way she looked at me was... Almost too intense. I had never taken the phrase “undressing someone with your eyes” very serious. At least not until now. Because that was exactly what Bliss was doing right now. She was devouring me with her eyes, and I coughed slightly to mask a gasp. I could feel something stir deep inside me, and I wasn’t even surprised when I felt the first sign of dampness in my panties. I wiggled slightly on the chair. Crossed my legs firmly under the table, and almost moaned again at the friction the shift brought. 

I looked down at my sketchbook again, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to present Griselda with an impressive artwork today. But for once I didn’t mind. For once, sketching was the furthest thing on my mind....

************************

By the time the lesson was over with, I was warm and distracted. Exactly like expected, Griselda had no praise to offer when she reached my little “drawing station”. But she didn’t say much. Instead she simply frowned and muttered something about doing it better the next time. 

I completely agreed with her but had very little expectation of doing it better the next time. Unless it was a different model, I couldn’t see exactly how I was supposed to improve. Not when things were like this. 

Alexandra was deemed winner of today’s lesson, and I was completely fine with that. She more than deserved that. I smiled at her and flashed her a thumbs up, and then I noticed that Gus was looking at her. With a very particular look in his eyes. I smiled a little at that. 

Griselda reminded us to hurry as we packed our things. Bliss disappeared into the backroom to change and knowing that the cooking class would be here any minute, I had no choice but to follow the rest of the class outside. But while they one by one got into their cars and drove away, I lingered. Went as far as pretending that I was supposed to meet my son here. I felt slightly horrible about it, but in that moment, I couldn’t think of any other excuses. 

Gus was the last one to leave, and he smiled widely at me before getting into his car and then driving away. 

I hovered near my car, and as I looked around in the parking lot, I immediately noticed that Bliss’ little yellow car wasn’t here. Had it broken down again, or had she deliberately taken the bus to get here?

I fiddled slightly with my purse, unsure of whether I should text her to let her know that I was waiting outside. We hadn’t really agreed on a particular meeting place. But before I got the chance to even find my phone, the door opened, and Bliss came outside. Today she was wearing a purple halter neck dress, and my first instinctive, sensible thought was that she had to be freezing wearing only that. It was definitely getting colder. And my second, and less sensible, but nevertheless true. She looked so good. Purple really suited her. Almost as good as yellow. I smiled a little as I detected the yellow scarf tied around her hair. Did that girl ever go out without wearing something yellow? Perhaps that was one of the questions I could ask her today. 

Soon she reached me, and as the distance between us was bridged, she flashed me a beaming smile. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” I parroted and smiled too. It was impossible not to.

“That was an interesting lesson,” Bliss said as she took my hand. 

“Mmm, it was. I.... I couldn’t concentrate,” I admitted. 

“No, me neither,” Bliss said. She didn’t seem very bothered by it. 

I glanced around in the parking lot again. “Where is your car? Has it broken down again?” 

“No, I left it at home,” she said. “I was sort of... hoping to catch a ride.” 

“Were you now?” I chuckled. “Well, in that case, I better give you one. It wouldn’t be very polite of me to say no, would it?” 

“Definitely not,” Bliss laughed. 

We got into the car, and Bliss had barely buckled up before she briskly said: “so. You wanted to ask me things?” 

“Yes,” I said as I started the engine and maneuvered the car around in the parking lot. “But I’m not sure where to start.”

She chuckled. “Why don’t you start with something simple then?” 

“Alright. What’s your full name?” I asked and said the first thing that came to mind. 

Bliss snickered at that. “Bliss Maya Edwards.” 

“Maya?” I echoed, tasting the name. 

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I think my parents were sort of trying to be cool when they gave me an unusual first name, but then they chickened out and gave me a “solid” middle name. Just in case. Just to give me the opportunity to use a different name. In case I wanted to be a lawyer or something like that,” she laughed again. 

“I see,” I said and nodded a little. I couldn’t imagine to call her something else than Bliss. In my humble opinion, no one had ever matched their name better. 

“Fortunately enough, I’m not planning on becoming a lawyer,” Bliss said casually. “But I’m still sort of glad they didn’t go with their first idea for my middle name.” 

“Which was...?” 

“Esperanza,” Bliss said dully and wrinkled her nose. “I think that would have been over the top.” 

Or maybe not. Esperanza would have suited her perfectly as well. “Why Esperanza?” I asked. 

“My dad’s family is from Spain way, way back,” Bliss said. “I think my great grandfather was the one who changed his last name to Edwards.” 

“Oh.” 

“And my mom was from Jamaica,” Bliss continued. 

That explained her warm skin tone. I had immediately picked up on the way she spoke of her mother in the past tense, but I decided not to ask her about that right now. Instead I said: “did you have a particular destination in mind, or...?” 

“Back to my place?” Bliss suggested, and now her voice wasn’t quite as nonchalant. 

I nodded. That was the answer I had hoped for. 

“Ask me more things,” she said briskly and placed her hand on my knee. 

I tried not to be too distracted by that as I asked: “what are you doing here in Vermont when you could be... I don’t know, anywhere but here?” 

“I needed some peace and quiet,” Bliss said, repeating what she had told me once long ago. 

“Why?” 

“Bad breakup,” Bliss said dully. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s fine. I believe that everything happens for a reason,” she said, and some of the warmth returned to her voice. “I mean, if she hadn’t dumped me, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” 

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” 

“Ask me something else.” 

“Why do you take your clothes off and let a bunch of strangers sketch you?” I asked. This was one of the things I had been genuinely curious about since day one. 

Bliss laughed heartedly at first, but then sobered up: “I used to hate my body.” 

“What?!” I was stunned. How could this perfect, beautiful young woman hate anything about herself. 

Bliss shrugged lightly. “I struggled a bit with loving myself when I was a teenager, and after the breakup, certain issues started to resurface, so after coming here, I figured it would be a good idea. A good   
way to see myself clearly. See how others saw my body.” She turned her head and flashed me a smile. “And so far, it’s working amazingly. There’s this really talented artist who always manages to capture me perfectly.” 

I felt how my cheeks pinkened slightly at that.

She gave my knee a slight squeeze. 

“Why do you always wear different nail polish?” I asked, forcing myself to move on to the next question. 

“’Cause life is too short to look boring. I like colors. When I was a bit younger, I used to paint every nail with a different color.” 

“You’re kidding me?”

“Nope.” 

I chuckled slightly and then thrusted one hand into my purse to find my phone. I could feel the flat surface of my sketchbook, and I could hear my pencils being tossed around in the purse as I searched, but I couldn’t find the phone. The image of my phone lying abandoned in my studio where I had been earlier, flittered through my mind. Of course. I had brought it with me in there when I was sketching a bit earlier. 

“Darn it,” I muttered under my breath. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I forgot my phone at home,” I admitted and silently cursed my forgetfulness.

“Oh,” Bliss chuckled slightly at my tone. 

I couldn’t leave without my phone. I had already been two hours without it. Perhaps Lucas had texted me. Or even called me. It could be something important. 

“Would you mind if we stopped by my house?” I asked. “I don’t think I can go without my phone.” 

“Sure,” Bliss said lightly. “But only if you keep asking me things. I like hearing your voice.” 

I laughed a little at that peculiar statement. “What do you want to do with your life?”

“Serious question,” Bliss snickered. 

I shrugged as best as I could with my hands on the wheel. “I mean, you’re still so young, so you have plenty of time to figure it out, but perhaps there was something you wanted to do in particular?” 

“There is,” Bliss said. “Though it’s a bit silly.” 

“Alright. Now I’m curious.” 

“I’ll show you once we get to my place,” Bliss promised. 

“Okay.” 

Soon we pulled up in front of my house, and the first thing I noticed was how dark the windows looked. The place almost looked a bit abandoned. 

“I won’t be a moment,” I promised as I hastily unbuckled and opened the car door. 

“Can I... go with you?” Bliss asked hesitantly. 

“Go with me?” I echoed dumbly. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’d love to see where you live,” she said almost shyly. “But if you don’t want me to, I understand. I’ll just stay here and wait.” 

“No,” I said. “No, you can come inside.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I’ve seen your home. It seems only fair that you see where I live as well. Come on.” 

She quickly unbuckled her own seatbelt and then got out of the car at the same time as I did. 

We walked up the pavement, and as we neared the house, I stopped and emptied the mailbox. Then I continued up to the front door and unlocked it. 

Bliss followed me as I walked into the hall and then the kitchen where I dumped the letters on the table. 

“So this is where you live,” she said as she looked around in the kitchen.

“Yes, this is where I live,” I confirmed. “Feel free to take a peek into the sitting room.” 

“It’s a nice place,” she said quietly. 

“I suppose it is,” I said. “But...” 

“But what?” Bliss asked softly. 

“I...” it’s too big when I’m here on my own. Which I often am. “Nothing. I’ll just go upstairs and... find my phone.” 

“Alright. I won’t go anywhere.” 

I flashed her a little smile at that. “I hope not.” Then I turned around and headed towards the stairs. 

It felt a little strange, having her here in my house. Perhaps it should have felt wrong. Perhaps it should have felt like I was bringing something forbidden into the house, but it didn’t. I couldn’t connect Bliss with something that was wrong or dirty. I just couldn’t. 

I reached the top of the stairs and quickly walked down the hallway. Opened the door to my “studio”. There was the phone lying abandoned on the table, and I scoffed slightly as I quickly grabbed it. Perhaps I should wear it on a chain around my neck. Perhaps that would ensure that I didn’t forget it. 

I went downstairs again and found the kitchen empty. Bliss hadn’t kept her word about not going anywhere. At least not entirely. I found her in the lounging room where she was curiously looking at the framed pictures standing on the mantelpiece. 

I quietly cleared my throat to let her know that I was back, and she whipped her head around and smiled. 

“That’s you?” she guessed and nodded towards one of the pictures. 

“Yes, that’s me,” I confirmed as I came closer and examined the picture of twenty one year old Ella Evans, recently graduated from college, and even more recently engaged. I tilted my head slightly. God, that girl looked so happy. So unconcerned. The whole world was at her feet. Everything was possible. I was smiling widely in the picture, and my hair was slightly longer and neatly styled in soft curls. Almost like it was today. 

“You were beautiful there too,” Bliss said, and her coffee colored eyes sparkled as she looked back at me. 

I shook my head slightly. “To be twenty one years again.” 

Bliss snickered softly. “Do you have everything you need?” 

“Yes,” I nodded. 

“Great. Let’s go then,” she smiled.

I happily agreed to that, and we went into the kitchen again. My intention was to head into the hall and then out of here, but Bliss clearly got distracted by the letters still lying on the kitchen table. She curiously glanced at one of the envelopes and then read aloud: “Ella C. Benson. What does the “C” stand for?” 

“Charlotte,” I said. 

She laughed warmly at that. “Ella Charlotte Benson. Seriously, can you be any more British?” 

I pretended to consider it for a moment, and then I said: “no, I don’t think I could.” 

“You could try?” Bliss teased. “Tell me, do you drink afternoon tea every afternoon?” 

“Yes,” I said. 

She laughed heartedly once more. “I take it back. I don’t think you could be any more British even if you tried.” 

I laughed too, and I felt completely warm as she came closer and took my hand in hers. I squeezed her fingers. No, it wasn’t wrong to have her here. It felt completely right. I felt completely right. I lifted my hand and cupped her cheek lightly, and Bliss immediately leaned into the touch. “Ella,” she half-whispered. 

Melting. That was the only word I could use to describe what I was feeling right now. I felt like I was melting under her gaze, and I squeezed her fingers lightly once more. God, she was so warm. She had brought something to my life I didn’t even know I had been searching for. She made everything seem just right. Everything felt good because of her.

THUD!

I nearly yelped, and Bliss and I immediately jumped away from one another at the sound of the front door being forcefully opened. So forcefully, it banged against the wall in the hall. Approximatively two seconds later, I saw Lucas come barreling into the kitchen, and then nearly stumbling as he ascended the stairs. 

“Lucas, what are you-“ 

“I forgot my charger!” he yelled before I got the chance to finish the sentence. “And the bus is waiting for me outside!” 

With that, he disappeared up the stairs, and ten seconds later, I heard the door to his room being flung open in the same forceful manner. 

“Alright then,” I mumbled. My heart was hammering away in my chest. Due to the shock when the door had been flung open, but also because I had no trouble with figuring out just how close Lucas had gotten to seeing something I couldn’t explain away. 

“Was that-“ 

“My son. Yes,” I said a bit tamely. 

“Okay,” Bliss said, and I could sense that she too was quite shocked. 

We didn’t get a lot of time to recover, though. In the blink of an eye, Lucas was back downstairs, and it sounded suspiciously like he was cursing under his breath as he was forced to stop and tie his shoelaces.

“Perhaps that’ll teach you not to wear shoes in the house,” I scowled. 

“Sorry, mum,” he panted. “But it was an emergency.” 

“Not a matter of life and death. And if that’s not the case, the rules still apply,” I scolded. 

He scowled and looked up. “Oh,” he said as his gaze landed on Bliss. It seemed as though he hadn’t noticed her until now. 

“Hi,” Bliss said. Because Lucas was clearly waiting for some sort of introduction. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “Have I met you before somewhere?” 

“Possibly,” Bliss said. “I’m a waitress on Pauline’s Café and Restaurant.” 

“Oh,” Lucas repeated and nodded. 

“Bliss and I know each other from the art class,” I quickly added and felt how my cheeks heated up. 

“Okay. Are you the one who brought us pie?” he asked, offering her a smile. 

“Yeah, I am,” Bliss said and returned his smile. 

“Oh. Cool. Nice to meet you. Anyway, I gotta go. See you in a week, mum.” 

“See you. Have fun on the school trip.” 

“Excursion!” he corrected me from the hallway. Five seconds later, I heard the door open and then slam behind him. 

I was standing left flabbergasted at what had occurred. Lucas had just met Bliss. Bliss had just met Lucas. They had said hi and smiled at one another. It felt like two worlds had just collided. That two very different lives had just intertwined. Once again, my heart started hammering away in my chest. 

Soft, warm fingers wrapped around my wrist. My head snapped up and I looked directly into warm brown eyes. 

“Hey,” Bliss said gently. 

“Hey,” I parroted meekly and tried to wrap my head around things.

“Do you still want to come back to my place?” she asked softly. “Because you don’t have to, you know. It’s completely fine if you-“ 

“No,” I interrupted. “No, I want to go with you. If you still want me too, that is.” 

“Duh.” Bliss said plainly and a little smile danced on her lips. 

I let her guide me. I willingly followed her as she gently pulled me into the hallway and then out of the house. I didn’t even want to let go of her hand. I used one hand to lock the door as we left, and soon I was back behind the wheel. Bliss was by my side, and I smiled at her as I switched the engine back on.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

By the time we reached Bliss’ house, I was still slightly flabbergasted, and still in the process of wrapping my head around what just happened. Bliss and Lucas had just met one another. My heart started thrumming uncomfortably in my chest as I thought about what could have happened had we not heard the door. Or suppose he had opened the door really quietly? What would have happened then? 

I didn’t need to answer that question. I already knew what would have happened. All hell would have broken loose. 

“Ella, are you okay?” Bliss asked gently and put her hand on my knee again.

“Yes,” I said quickly and unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’m absolutely fine.” 

“Are you sure you wanna come in?” she asked. 

“Yes,” I said immediately. I couldn’t imagine driving back to the big empty house. I didn’t want to be alone. 

To prove how fine I was, I flashed her a smile and opened the car door. Bliss was quick to unbuckle her own seatbelt and then follow me outside. She even took my hand as we walked towards her house, and the gesture didn’t fill me with anxiety. It felt... It felt so natural to hold her hand like this. 

She opened the door to her house with a grand gesture, and I felt appalled upon discovering that she hadn’t locked her door. 

“What?” Bliss asked as we went inside. She had clearly seen the look on my face. 

“Your door was unlocked.” 

“Oh, right,” she said and sighed slightly. “Yeah. I always forget to lock my door.” 

“That... That worries me,” I admitted. 

She laughed at that. “You’re so sweet.”

“I’m serious. You live all alone and-“ 

“This is a very safe neighborhood,” Bliss interrupted as we went into her kitchen. “But seriously, I think I kinda like it when you worry about me.” 

“I probably shouldn’t though,” I noted. “I don’t think it’s my business.” 

“Isn’t it?” Bliss asked plainly and gave my hand one last squeeze. Then she opened the refrigerator with an equally grand gesture. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I think I have some wine left. Or possibly a beer. But you don’t really strike me as the beer drinking type.”

She earned herself a slight chuckle at that. “It’s actually been a few years since I last had a pint,” I admitted. 

The corners of Bliss’ mouth twitched slightly like she was trying to suppress a smile. 

“Beer,” I quickly corrected myself. “It’s been a while since I last had a beer.” 

“Don’t do that,” she said softly. “I happen to like your British way of speaking.” 

I smiled a little at that. “My son keeps telling me that I’m not in England anymore. And he has a point. It’s been quite a while since I last was in England.” 

“Your folks still live there?” Bliss asked as she took said pint out of the fridge. 

“Yes, they moved to Cornwall a few years ago,” I said. And I’ve only visited them once. I felt guilty about that, and I silently wondered what excuses I had used over the years. 

Bliss unscrewed the capsule with a slight pop. “If it’s really been a few years since you last had beer, I think you deserve one today.” With that she opened one of her cupboards and found a glass. She frowned in concentration as she poured the golden liquid into the glass, but she still managed to spill a few drops on the kitchen table. “Woops.” 

I laughed quietly. 

“Here you go,” Bliss said, ignoring my amusement as she slid the glass across the kitchen table towards me. 

“Thank you.” I brought the glass up to my lips and took a sip. This pint had probably spend a lot of time in Bliss’ refrigerator, was most likely bought in the nearest grocery store, but it was still the best pint I had ever tasted. 

Bliss raised the bottle, brought it up to her lips and then took a sip from it. She licked her lips slightly.

I took another sip of the pint.

“Good?” Bliss asked, as though she was waiting for my verdict.

“Mmm-hmm, yes,” I said halfheartedly and flushed slightly as I remembered her asking me a similar question in a very different context. 

Bliss took another gulp of the bottle and then observed: “you’re blushing.” 

I just shook my head in defeat and took another sip of my pint. 

Bliss sat the bottle down on the table and came closer. “Wanna tell me what you’re thinking about?” 

“I was thinking about you,” I admitted and sat my own glass down. 

“And why is that embarrassing?” she asked plainly. 

“It’s not, I’m just-“

I never got the chance to finish that sentence. She effectively robbed me of my voice by kissing me. And it caught me so off-guard, I stumbled backwards and ended up colliding with a chair. But I didn’t exactly have anything against it. I quickly recovered and tangled my fingers into her thick curls. Cocoa and honey with a faint trace of cinnamon. The same tingles I had been feeling when she kissed me earlier before the art class, came back, but this time they were so much stronger, and I couldn’t quite bite back a slight gasp when her hands slid down and cupped my rear again. It should have been a tacky thing to do. It should have felt like a cliché thing to do. She was quite literally groping me, but it didn’t feel tacky or cliché. Instead I felt how her touches made all my nerve endings stand on edge again. I didn’t know how she managed to do that by doing so little. 

I could feel how the tip of her tongue lightly tapped against my lower lip, and I was quite willing as I parted my lips for her. The tip of her tongue wrapped around mine and then sucked gently. Her hands were still on my rear. She squeezed slightly, and I immediately felt grateful that I had chosen to wear this dress today. Because while the fabric wasn’t scandalously thin, I could still feel the warmth from her hands seep right through it. Her touches seemed to make me feel bolder too, and my fingers disentangled from her hair as my hands slid down. Soon they were cupping her breasts, and what I felt made the muscles between my thighs twitch slightly again. She was not wearing a bra underneath the thin dress, and I could feel her nipples like hard points straining against the fabric. I brushed my thumb over her nipple, and I felt her eyelashes flutter against my own. Her teeth scraped gently over my lower lip as she took it between her owns and alternated between tugging and sucking. 

I felt how shivers ran down my spine at that, and I teetered slightly on my high heels. My knees were buckling. In a moment, they wouldn’t be able to carry my weight anymore. 

Perhaps she knew that, or maybe she was merely reacting to her own desire as she moved her hands away from my rear and placed them on my hips instead. I mourned the loss for just a moment, but then she was guiding me backwards. Gently pushing me towards the stairs. 

I wasn’t quite sure how we made it upstairs. I think we more stumbled than walked upstairs, and neither of us were even considering to hold on to the handrail. Making sure that we touching were far more important. The situation was definitely precarious, and it could have ended badly, but by some mere miracle we ended up in Bliss’ bedroom. Safe and sound. 

Bliss momentarily moved her hand away from my hip and closed the door. The moment the door slammed behind us, she grabbed my hips again, and soon I found myself pushed up against the yellow wall. 

Her lips connected with mine again, and then she was grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. Another thing I wasn’t used to, but I would lie if I claimed that I didn’t like it. It made me even more aroused, and so did the thigh being slipped in between my legs. I couldn’t help but to move against it, and Bliss groaned into my mouth. Taking advantage of that, I deepened the kiss again, and I could feel how she squeezed my wrists ever so slightly. The way she moved her thigh became somewhat more purposeful. My panties were dampening rapidly, and I opened my legs just a little bit more. Just to feel her better.

It paid off, and I soon felt a rush of heat between my legs, and it was my turn to groan into her mouth. My head was muddled, and I needed to breathe. 

Reluctantly, I broke the kiss, and the breath immediately exploded out of my lungs. But I wasn’t the only one who was in dire need of oxygen. Bliss was panting slightly, and her grip on my wrists were growing lax. I flashed her a little, shaky smile. Her dark eyes gleamed slightly. She released my wrists, but I wasn’t even capable of moving them away from the wall at first. I just stood rooted to the spot with my hands still above my head. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Bliss breathed.

That woke me up, so to speak, and I shook my head ever so slightly as I moved my hands from the wall. 

She was quick to take my hand and lead me into the center of the room once more. Her arms gently draped around my waist as she kissed me once more, and this time, the kiss was softer. Lighter, and as delicate as a soap bubble. 

My stomach fluttered pleasantly once more, and I realized that it didn’t matter how she kissed me. As long as she didn’t stop. 

Therefore I nearly whimpered when she released my lips with a soft pop and then moved so she was standing behind me. My complaints were easily forgotten when I felt her fingers on the zipper of my dress. My breathing immediately sped up, and I felt how softly she was touching my shoulder with her other hand. She was clearly trying to make sure that what she was doing was alright, so I took a deep breath and tried to relax. 

The zipper made a scratching sound as it was tugged at, and I could feel how my upper back was revealed. Then Bliss’ mouth was on my skin, and I forgot how to breathe again. 

She kept that up. Tugged slowly at the zipper and exposed my skin inch by inch. Then she kissed again. 

By the time she had unzipped the dress to the middle of my back, I was a mess. I couldn’t keep still, and my thighs squeezed together rhythmically with each kiss she dropped on my skin. It felt as though she was unwrapping me. Like I was some sort of present, and the idea that she felt like that about me was.... Well. Crazy.

With one last scratch from the zipper, my green dress ended up pooling around my ankles. I wanted to step out of it, but Bliss stopped me by putting her hands on my hips. There was some shuffling behind me, and then I felt her lips on my lower back. I moaned sharply at that, and I didn’t have to look to know that she had dropped to her knees behind me. She was slowly kissing along my spine, kissing her way up, and by the time she reached the nape of my neck and gently pushed my hair away, I was trembling from head to toe.

She gently spun me around, carefully not to make me trip in my dress that were still draped around my ankles. When I lifted my head to meet her gaze, I could immediately see how her eyes had darkened. 

Without saying anything, but smiling a little, Bliss moved her hands down my waist, placed her hands on my hips again, and then she was guiding me to sit on the edge of her bed.

As soon as I was sitting, she grinned slightly as she bent down, lifted my ankle and then removed my shoe. 

“I could have... I could have done that myself,” I pointed out as she removed the other one. 

“You could. Doesn’t mean you should,” she teased as she dumped the shoes next to my dress. 

I might have rolled my eyes just a bit as I lifted my hips and then drew the stockings down my legs. 

“Hey, I wanted to do that,” Bliss said and nearly pouted when I unceremoniously dumped the stockings on the floor. 

I laughed quietly and shook my head at that. 

Bliss swiftly reached behind her, fiddled with something, and then she pulled the purple dress over her head. It landed next to my dress, but that wasn’t my main focus. It was the fact that she indeed was not wearing a bra underneath the dress. Her nipples were hard points, and her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath she took. I couldn’t stop looking at her as she stood there in just her blue panties. She was so beautiful. She made me ache and itch to be close to her once more, and unable to control myself, I outstretched one hand towards her. A silent plead to join me. 

She immediately took the hint, and she smiled a little as she took my hand. Soon she was straddling my lap, and I had to take an extra breath when I felt how damp she had gotten. Her nimble fingers moved from the nape of my neck and down. She toyed with the clasp on my bra for a moment before unhooking it. 

I leaned back some to make it easier for her to remove the garment, and once the garment was lying on the floor, Bliss looked at me and smiled a little. 

I returned her smile and willingly leaned back when I felt her push slightly on my shoulders. My hair splayed out on the pillow as I laid down on the bed. I felt her shift, and then she was laying on top of me. I moaned sharply as I felt how her breast were pressed against mine. She kissed my cheek, my jaw, her lips slowly moved down my neck. She kissed the top of my shoulder, and then followed the protrusion of my collarbone. She placed a warm kiss in the valley between my breasts, and my legs twitched in response. Her lips continued their journey, and soon she reached my right breast. She started at the very top and then dotted kisses all over it. Automatically, I lifted my hands and tangled my fingers into her hair. My breath was shallow, uneven, I could have floated away right then and there, but Bliss made sure that I stayed. She kept me grounded like nothing else had done before. When she reached my nipple, she first placed a featherlight kiss on it, and then she took it between her lips and tugged slightly. She reached her hand and took my other nipple between two fingers. She pinched it lightly and then tweaked it lightly, mirroring the movement with her lips on my other nipple. 

I moaned sharply. What she was doing right now, was almost bordering on painful, and yet there was something about it that made me burn and boil in a way that left me breathless. She was pushing my limit and showing me new ways of pleasure, and I squeezed my legs together as best as I could with her on top of me. 

Bliss released my nipple with a slight pop, and I could have protested if it hadn’t been for the way she gently kissed the underside of my breast. Her teeth scraped against my skin, and my toes curled. I moaned her name, and I felt her hum against my skin. She switched side, and I moaned again when I felt her mouth on my left breast. More warmth rushed to my center, and I abandoned all thoughts of controlling my movements. My back arched, the movement made me push my breast further into her mouth, and my fingers trembled in her hair. 

Bliss lifted her head. Looked up at me and smiled a little. I couldn’t return her smile. I just panted. 

“Gods, Ella,” she breathed, her voice was rough and scratchy, and her mouth was warm when she kissed me. I could have melted on the spot.

I didn’t. Instead I returned her kiss with all might until my lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. I didn’t have to push her away, Bliss immediately sensed it, and while I tried to catch my breath, she kissed her way down my neck again. Again, she kissed the top of my shoulder, moved to my front and then continued downwards. She gave my left nipple a teasing kiss, nibbled at the underside of my breast again, and then kissed my stomach. She dipped her tongue into my belly button, and that slight feeling of dying just a little bit was back. I moved my fingers from her hair and grabbed the headboard like I had done the first time. I was afraid of ending up pulling her hair. The headboard would have to do. 

She left no place neglected. Her lips brushed over the thin lines on my stomach, and then her mouth was on my hip as she slowly worked her way down to my thigh. When she reached my inner thigh, I let out this strangled little half-cry that didn’t even sound like me. She was killing me slowly, and she probably knew it. I could feel my skin vibrating slightly as she planted another kiss on my inner thigh. My muscles clenched dangerously, and I could feel the wetness seep down my leg. I wiggled slightly, tried to squeeze my legs together, but the way she was laying between my legs made it impossible. I huffed slightly in half arousal, half frustration. 

Her fingers traced the waistband of my underwear, and I heard a breathy “yes!” slip past my lips. That didn’t sound like my voice either. It was too rough, to raspy. It didn’t make any sense that this riled up woman was in fact me.

I quickly decided that it didn’t matter. Bliss had mouthed her way back to my abdomen, and as she dotted kisses all over my skin, she slowly hooked her fingers in the waistband of my panties. She only stopped kissing me when she had to shift her position to peel the panties off me. I lifted my hips to assist her and groaned slightly at the way the panties were sticking to me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this aroused. 

Bliss was quick as she plucked the panties off my right ankle and then tossed them onto the floor. Her pupils were blown wide and I saw how she licked her lips slightly as she looked down at my body. 

I tried to smile, but I could feel how my lips were quivering, and I had to avert my eyes when she looked up at me. There was something about her hungry gaze that made it impossible for me to look at her. 

She put a hand on my cheek, gently turning my head so we were looking at one another. “Don’t hide from me,” she whispered. 

“I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to hide less than I am right now,” I pointed out and shivered when she caressed me from my breasts and all the way down to my abdomen. 

Bliss chuckled quietly at my bad attempt at humor. “You’re gorgeous,” she said. 

I flashed her a rather quivering smile at that. 

“Open your legs,” she whispered and licked her lips again. 

I parted my thighs and expected to feel her fingers between them. Expected her to lie on top of me once more, but instead she lowered her mouth and resumed kissing my abdomen. I sighed softly and closed my eyes. Each kiss made the muscles between my thighs clench with anticipation, and I was fully enjoying this slow build up. 

She kissed and nipped at my skin, sucked lightly, and I was sure she was gonna leave a mark. I didn’t do anything to stop her. I was enjoying it far too much to worry about marks. 

Her mouth was so soft and warm, the swirl of her tongue on my skin so sweet, and I was panting lightly under her gentle attention until she suddenly did something different. She trailed her kisses lower and lower until......

“Oh, god!” it was more of a yelp than a cry really, and I ended up almost sitting bolt upright in the bed. 

Bliss immediately lifted her head and looked at me. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” I said breathlessly and almost felt embarrassed as I admitted: “I just wasn’t expecting....” 

Bliss flashed me a soft smile. “I can do something else if you don’t like it.” 

“No,” I said, because however unexpected it had been, that kiss she had pressed to my core had felt good. “No, I want you to... keep going.” 

She smiled again as she helped me lie back down. “Just let me know if something doesn’t feel good, yeah?” 

“Okay.” 

She kissed my abdomen again, and I closed my eyes, tried to quell my embarrassment, tried to surrender to the frissons of pleasure that was coursing through my body. A little difficult at first, but ever so easy when I felt her lips on my inner thigh again. She slowly mouthed her way up, and then her lips were on my sex. She kissed between my legs, and this time I made a keening sound instead of yelping. 

My back arched, but this time I didn’t sit bolt upright. I managed to stay in a fairly normal laying position. Bliss’ hands came up and she began kneading my breasts gently as she pressed another kiss to my core. Really, she was simply doing what she had done to the rest of my body, and dotted kisses everywhere, but the effect of her ministrations made my jaw drop completely. My mouth took over. 

There was no way of keeping myself from crying out as she kissed where I was swollen and slick. My legs twitched uncontrollably, and my hands landed on top of hers in some sort of attempt to keep them on my breasts. She squeezed slightly once more. Reassurance or more stimulation, I wasn’t completely sure, but the next second it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Every last coherent thought was lost when I felt her tongue swirl through my wetness. I yelled her name and my hands travelled down so I could grip her hair once more. She swirled her tongue through my wetness, up and down, slowly, like she was trying not to overwhelm me. If that was the intention, she wasn’t doing a very good job. I was entirely overwhelmed. But in the best way possible! 

She licked gently near my entrance, lapping up the wetness that pooled there, and then she mouthed her way upwards again. 

“Ahh! Bliss!” 

My voice was going shrill, but I didn’t care. Her mouth was so close to my clit now, and I was burning and aching with anticipation. The past embarrassment was long forgotten, and the only thing I could think about was how it felt. I wasn’t used to being kissed there, but god, how I had missed out! 

She changed things. Suddenly, she was flattening her tongue and licking me up and down. From my entrance and right up to that sensitive little bundle of nerves. I gasped and reflectively, my thighs clamped down around her face. I tried to remind myself not to choke her, but my body wasn’t doing my bidding right now, and I couldn’t really think either. My fingers twisted in her hair, wrapped the dark strands around my fingers as I tugged slightly once more. 

“Bliss!” the word was garbled. Muddled. My breathing quickened again, and I could feel droplets of sweat gathering in the column of my throat. Once again, a mess because of her. 

Her mouth moved again. Her tongue pressed hard against my entrance, but she never slipped it inside, she just teased and lapped at me once more. I cried out again, completely lost in the sensation. Fire coursed through my abdomen and left me breathless. With each teasing lick from her tongue, I felt myself being pushed closer to that precipice. My hips rocked against her, and I dared lifting my head. 

The sight of her face between my legs was more than enough to make me moan sharply once more. My head fell back against the pillow once more, but I couldn’t keep my hips steady. I had to gyrate them against her mouth. She made it impossible for me to keep still. I couldn’t recognize my body and the things it was currently doing. The way she made me feel was... Indescribable. 

Her hands and her mouth moved at the same time. Her mouth was back near my clit, and her hands abandoned my breasts. I didn’t even get the chance to mourn the loss before I felt her fingers near my entrance.

“Yes!” my voice was weak. I had reached a state in my arousal where I had to whisper.

The tip of her finger grazed my entrance, and then she was slowly pushing it inside me. She didn’t have to go slow, though. There was absolutely no resistance. The digit effortlessly slipped inside me, and my breath hitched when I felt it wiggle slightly, swirl gently until it could press right against that spot inside me. My fingers ended up curled around the headboard once more. I was clutching it so tightly, I could feel my fingers twitch slightly. I needed something to keep me grounded, and even more so when Bliss lowered her mouth once more, and I felt the flat of her tongue being dragged over my clit, like she was testing to see whether I liked it or not. 

She didn’t need to test anything. My reaction was imminent. I moaned strangled and my hips wiggled as I moved against her once more. 

“Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god! Oh, Christ!” I was babbling. Saying nonsense. I wasn’t in control over which words came out of my mouth, but it didn’t matter. I pushed up to meet her tongue once more, and she went from using the flat of her tongue, to flicking my clit with the very tip of her tongue instead. Somehow, that felt even better, and I felt half-crazed as I breathed her name again. 

The digit inside me wiggled and then withdrew until I only could feel the very tip of it inside me, but instead of complaining, I moaned sharply as I felt a second digit being lined up with my entrance, and my jaw dropped completely when Bliss slipped both fingers inside me. She twisted the digits, swirled them slightly, and then they were rubbing against that spot inside me as she hooked them slightly, all the while she kept licking me. She had gone from flicking her tongue to dragging it over my clit in an almost zigzag like way. 

And I had gone from making noise to being almost completely silent. I had reached a state where my voice was failing me. I had reached a state where I had to let my body do the talking. My hips moved as I bucked against her, and my back arched. Her fingers hooked again, and then she went back to flicking her tongue against my clit once more. My heels digged into the mattress and I finally let go of the headboard to grab a fistful of the bedding instead. I wiggled under her attention and released a shattered little moan. That was the only sound I was able to make right now.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! My fingers scrabbled on the bedding, I was fighting to stay grounded, because it felt like my connection to the solid ground was slipping away. Something in my stomach tightened, and I felt that telltale rush of pleasure coarse through me. I squeezed the bedding tightly once more. Opened my eyes for the briefest of moments and then squeezed them tightly shut again. I felt a slight burning sensation in my heels, and then my back was arching again, uncontrolled and unbridled. My thighs had begun shaking, but I only became aware of that when I felt a warm hand on my right thigh. And I also noticed that the hand was slipping slightly. I was sweating. I could feel how my hair was sticking to my forehead. 

I didn’t know how I managed to do it, but I lifted my head once more and looked at her. I could see the way she moved her head, and I could see the hand she had between my thighs. And the sounds she was making! The sound was slightly muddled, but I was still certain that she was voicing how good this was for her too. Seeing her between my legs and hearing the little noises she made against my skin, made my muscles clench again. The feeling could easily be compared to burning up, and I swallowed thickly before parting my lips and forcing myself to say something that was at least a little bit coherent:

“Bliss, I- ahh!” 

I didn’t even get to finish the sentence. I didn’t even get the chance to warn her before the orgasm ripped through me and took me completely by surprise. My head fell back against the pillow, and my hand ended up clutching Bliss’ slippery shoulder as a million white lights popped behind my eyes. I groaned a little as I tried to breathe normally. 

I didn’t succeed. Tingles of pleasure was still coursing through my body, and when I managed to open my eyes, Bliss’ bedroom was blurring slightly around the edges. It was possible that I wasn’t quite done coming yet. I closed my eyes again and groaned slightly. I was only partially aware that Bliss fingers left my body. My knees immediately caved in, and my legs ended up limp and splayed open on the bed. 

The mattress creaked slightly, and then I felt Bliss warm hand on my cheek. I wasn’t even aware that my hand had fallen away from her shoulder. Equally warm lips found mine, and as I returned her kiss, I immediately noticed that her lips had a slight salty taste to them. It didn’t take me long to figure out exactly what they were tasting of, and I flushed slightly as I licked my lips slightly.

“Are you still with me?” Bliss asked gently, and her fingertips touched my cheek once more. 

“I... I think so?” 

She laughed a little at that. Her laughter was raspier than normal, and that almost made me flush again. 

“Take your time,” she said. “I’ll just lie down and admire you.” 

Admire me. I was sweaty and my hair was a mess. I couldn’t see that there was much to admire, but I didn’t argue with her. Instead I laid quietly and soaked up what was left of those delicious tingles. Dull waves of arousal was still surging through me, and though it wasn’t as intense as the pleasure I had experienced a moment ago, it was still worth postponing any conversation for. I tried to focus on my breathing. Tried to take deep, slow breaths. Right now, it felt like my heart was working double duty, and I was almost afraid of the long term effect if it continued much longer.

I silently ordered myself to calm down, and soon it payed off. My heart finally slowed down some and went from hammering against my ribcage, to thruming. Still a bit too fast, but at least I could suck the breath all the way into my lungs now. A definite improvement to my previous problem. My fingers twitched slightly one more time, and then went still on the mattress. Perhaps I was finally regaining the control over my body. I moved my legs slightly, flexed the muscles once to test. The movement was unwilling, but it was there. Another improvement. I could work with this.

I licked my lips again, and that salty taste prickled on my tongue. My cheeks reddened.

After another moment, it felt like my ability to think clearly was finally coming back, but my desire to move was very little. My entire body felt limp. Unwilling. I opened and closed my hand experimentally. Just to see if I was actually capable of moving. I was, but only just. My fingers were a bit stiff. I shouldn’t have clutched the headboard so tightly. 

Bliss chuckled sweetly once more, and I honestly couldn’t blame her. I probably looked quite comically.

Deciding that it was high time to “come back to earth” I forced my eyes open and looked at her. The image of her laying almost naked and looking at me, was completely sharp in my vision. Perhaps I wasn’t gonna black out after all. I almost laughed myself. Black out. While it sounded exaggerated, I was ninety nine percent sure that that could in fact have happened. 

She smiled sweetly at me. “Hi.” 

“Hello,” I parroted and opened and closed my hand once more. Now the movement felt a bit more controlled. But my heart was thrumming a little fast again. Bliss’ lips were glistening, and it was impossible for me not to pay attention to it.

“You good?” she asked and slid closer, so we were almost nose to nose. 

“Mmm, yes. I’m fine,” I said and noted that my speech was a bit slurred. 

“You’re sure?” she asked, sounding uncertain, and I didn’t blame her. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said again, and this time I slurred less. 

She cupped my cheek again. “You look good like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Y’ know, all... mussed up. And satisfied,” Bliss said. 

I laughed, and perhaps I wasn’t entirely in charge over what was coming out of my mouth, because I ended up blurting out: “I’ve never tried that before.” 

“Tried what?” Bliss asked and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

I snapped my jaw shut with a slight pop. Why did I blurt out such information? I should be more mindful and not have such a loose tongue. I shook my head once to indicate that it didn’t matter. 

But Bliss quickly put two and two together. “You mean that no one has ever gone down on you before?” 

My cheeks reddened as I nodded once in confirmation. 

Bliss looked as the mere thought was completely unacceptable, but then she shook her head and said: “now I get why you reacted that way.”

“Yes,” I said plainly. 

A slight smile tugged at her lips. “But I think the outcome was pretty good, yeah?” 

“It was more than good,” I said and shook my head in sheer disbelief. “It was...” I couldn’t finish the sentence, and the smile on Bliss’ lips widened. 

Instead of wasting time with more words, I reached for her, pulled her into my arms, held her close for a moment, and then shifted us so I was laying on top of her. I moved my hands down and peeled her panties away, and soon it was her turn to feel, her turn to gasp and moan and say my name in a breathy whisper. I wasn’t quite bold enough to do what she had just done to me, but Bliss seemed satisfied either way, and her hips bucked when I slid my fingers down to where she was wet and warm. I adjusted myself slightly, wished there was a way I could keep looking at the shimmering gemstone in her belly button. The way the light reflected in it when she moved mesmerized me. As did the look upon her face when I slipped a finger inside her. 

“Ella!” 

It was her turn to clutch at my shoulder, and the way her lips parted when I hooked my finger inside her, was enough to send more shivers down my spine. As was the way she soon breathed: “more!” 

I immediately gave her what she wanted and slipped a second digit inside her. I hooked both my fingers and easily found that spot inside her. The spot that made her wither under me. I twisted my hand, pressed the heel of it against her clit, and then I flicked my wrist. I wanted her to feel as much pleasure as she possibly could. She wiggled underneath me, and the way she moved made it slightly more difficult, but I didn’t complain. How could I complain when she was wriggling like this because of what I was doing to her? As opposed to what I had done, Bliss didn’t held on to the headboard. She held on to me. No matter how much her back arched or how much her hips jerked, she still had one if not both of her hands on me. Right now, I was her lifeline, and that made my breath hitch again. The way she was clinging to me. I had never felt as much in contact with anyone as I did with her. And I realized that I needed this contact as much as she did. It felt as though I had been aching for this skin to skin contact without fully realizing it. 

Her hands moved from my shoulders to my breasts, and she squeezed them lightly. That nearly threw me off. That nearly made me forget what I was doing, but then I remembered that this was about her. 

Bliss. This is about Bliss. As to stress that out, I thumped my fingers faster inside her, and her hands grew lax on my breasts. She placed her palms flatly on my back again, and I felt how she tightened around my fingers. I felt proud. I had brought her to this place. I was the reason she was about to let go and unravel.

Soon she was coming beneath me, and I stopped thinking all together. Her cries of pleasure filled my ears, and her fingers dug into my shoulders. And she was so beautiful like this. I kept moving my fingers slowly inside her until I could her relax around me. Then I gently withdrew my fingers and my stomach somersaulted when I saw her glistening essence of her on them. 

She flashed me a rather wobbly smile, and I noted that her eyes were glassy. Then her eyes slid closed. Was she going to fall asleep? Perhaps. I couldn’t blame her. 

She curled into my side, and she laid so quietly, I thought she actually had fallen asleep. That gave me the opportunity to think. Not about something major, but simply whether I wanted to go home tonight or not. It wasn’t very late. Somehow, we had ended up in bed this early, and had I been in a particular mood, I could probably have come up with twenty good reasons why that was scandalous. But right now, I was simply far too content to care. I stretched my legs slightly and turned my head to face the wall near her door as I considered what to do. Should I go home? I suppose I could. I could hop out of this bed right now and redress and drive back home. But then again....

The house was gonna be dark and empty when I came home. I would end up spending the remaining of my evening on the couch with a glass of wine, and my mind would run wild. I would worry and wonder and consider, and it would most likely drive me to a point where I had to drink an extra glass of wine in order to settle down. 

The fact was that I didn’t want to leave this warm bed. Nor did I want to leave this beautiful woman who was currently curled into my side. I couldn’t bring myself to leave her now. Not after what we had just done. 

I bit my lip. This is terribly complicated. What was the plan? Would it feel better to leave tomorrow?

No. Probably not. 

I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. I was really knee deep in it. I was suddenly feeling things so strongly and so quickly, and I didn’t think that it was solely because Bliss was the first one who had shown me this amount of tenderness in a long time. 

God, what am I gonna do? 

I was too much of a coward to include the general situation in that thought. I settled for limiting the thought to the here and now. Perhaps I could stay. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind if I stayed the night.

My stomach growled. A sudden reminder that I hadn’t had any dinner yet. I almost chuckled. Up until now, hunger had been the furthest thing on my mind, but now that I was finally settling down, my more “human” desires kicked in. 

I brushed a curly lock of hair away from my face. My hair, not hers. My hair had gone curly because of the dampness. 

Then a movement next to me caught my attention and I turned my head. 

Bliss was looking at me, silently observing me, and she looked quite serious as she did so.

“Oh. I thought you were asleep,” I said and chuckled lightly. 

She didn’t answer, and she didn’t chuckle in return. She just kept looking ever so serious as she kept looking at me. 

“What?” I asked and propped myself up on one elbow to look more properly at her. 

“Nothing. You’re just...” she didn’t finish the sentence and shook her head slightly. 

“What?” I asked. Now I was fearing that she would ask me to leave. 

“You’re going to make me fall in love with you,” Bliss said quietly, and her warm hand cupped my cheek. 

I didn’t flinch at her confession. Instead I leaned in and kissed her.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

For the second time in a very short duration, I felt completely warm when I woke up that following morning. My hand felt heavy when I lifted it and ran my fingers through my hair. It was mussed up, and I wasn’t surprised. My stomach coiled pleasantly upon remembering Bliss’ fingers in my hair last night. 

Bliss. I turned my head. She was still fast asleep next to me, and I couldn’t blame her for that. Glancing at the clock radio, I quickly realized that opposed to the last time, it was fairly early. Half seven only. 

Almost criminally early, but I felt as though I had a valid reason to be awake this early. We had “gone to bed” rather early yesterday. 

And I couldn’t sleep anymore. So quietly, without waking the peacefully sleeping woman next to me, I rose from the bed. The longhaired, fuzzy blanket muted my steps as I crossed the floor. There was a fluffy, pink bathrobe hanging on the peg on the bedroom door, and even though it was a bit ridiculous, I slipped the bathrobe over my naked body. It was either that or redressing. 

I quietly opened the bedroom door and slipped into the little hallway. I found Bliss’ bathroom by the end of that hallway, and after reliving myself I debated on whether I should shower now or wait. I knew that I should probably get dressed and then dip, but the thought of leaving wasn’t very appealing. What I really wanted was to go back to bed and join Bliss for a few more glorious hours, but I knew that I couldn’t sleep now. 

After fixing my hair slightly in front of the bathroom mirror and noting that my cheeks were ridiculously flushed, I ended up wandering down the hallway and then down the stairs. 

I wandered into the kitchen and smiled a little at what I found. A bottle and a glass of pint standing abandoned on the table. Along with my purse. Had I left it down here last night? I had forgotten that. 

I ran a finger through my hair. Rubbed a hand over my cheek. I wasn’t completely sure what my actual purpose of being down here really was. Perhaps going upstairs and getting dressed was better. But then again, I would wake Bliss. And that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Yes. She deserved to sleep. 

So instead of doing that, I opened the refrigerator. Found a carton of orange juice and then pottered around in her cupboards to find a glass. I had just found what I was looking for, when I registered that my purse was vibrating. Or, something inside my purse was vibrating. I abandoned the glass of orange juice and thrusted one hand inside my purse instead. Fished out my phone and checked the number. 

My stomach plummeted. 

Stephen. 

That shouldn’t have taken me by surprise. This was his rule. When he was exceptionally busy at work, he would call me every two days, and always early in the morning. Before he started his meetings. I weighted the phone in my hand. The idea of talking to him while I was here was....

But I knew I couldn’t ignore his call. That would only make him wonder. 

I took a deep breath and slid a finger over the screen. Brought the phone up to my ear. “Hello?” 

“Ella, my dear.” 

“Good morning,” I said vaguely. 

“You sound hoarse, my dear. Did I wake you?” 

“No, I was up,” I said truthfully. 

“Ah. And what are your plans for the day?” 

“I’m not sure, maybe I’m gonna-“ 

“Oh, did Carla Rasmussen call you?” Stephen interrupted. 

“No, I haven’t heard from her.” 

“Oh. Perhaps Mr. Rasmussen changed his mind?” 

“Yes, perhaps,” I said. My voice sounded strange. Like it was coming from afar. 

“Is Lucas up yet?” Stephen asked. 

“He’s away at camp this week.” 

“Is he? Hmm. I don’t believe you’ve mentioned that.”

“I told you last week,” I said a bit tiredly. “Don’t you remember? Right before you had that meeting.” 

“Oh yes,” Stephen said, but I doubted that he actually did remember it. Minor details, like Lucas’ school trips always seemed to escape him whenever he was busy at work. 

“When you talk to him, could you ask him to check his email and take a look of the brochures I’ve sent him?” Stephen asked in the other end. 

“What brochures are those?” I asked and raised an eyebrow even though my husband couldn’t see it. 

“High schools,” Stephen said. “A colleague of mine has recommended quite a few. His son goes to the one in Boston. The one I’ve been talking about, and if Lucas could transfer-“ 

“Boston is three hours away,” I interrupted. “And Lucas is only thirteen.” 

“Fourteen in a couple of months,” Stephen pointed out. “And the school I’ve mentioned really have an excellent math program.” 

“Maybe he’d rather start at a local high school?” I said. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to go to Boston?” 

“Why wouldn’t he?” Stephen said and laughed a little. “It’s my experience that all thirteen year old boys wants to get out and see the world.” 

I nearly saw red at that. It’s my experience. That was coming from a man who was barely home, and when he was, he didn’t pay much attention to his son. 

“All his friends lives here,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm. 

“He’ll easily make new friends, my dear. Friends of his own kind.” 

Yes, the sons of businessmen. I imagined Lucas joining some sort of club for boys whose fathers never really had time for them. And I imagined him being all alone and lost in a big city. Lucas wasn’t the type to just make new friends.

“If he went to school here, he and I could spend more time together,” Stephen continued. “You always say that I don’t spend enough time with him. If he lived here, he could come and visit the company. Really get the opportunity to see what his father does for a living.” 

Perhaps it was a well-meaning suggestion, but I couldn’t really imagine Lucas enjoying that. “Well, at that rate wouldn’t it be better if we all just moved to Boston?” I dryly suggested.

Stephen laughed in the other end. “Don’t be silly, Ella. You don’t want to leave Vermont.” 

“I don’t?”

“I doubt you would enjoy the city life,” Stephen said nonchalantly. “You’d complain over the noise, and besides, we couldn’t just sell the house and leave. That would be ridiculous.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.” 

“But Lucas-“

“Let’s discuss it when you come home,” I interrupted. I was not in the mood for another argument over the phone. 

“Yes, it’s probably better to have this conversation when I’m home. You’re right. I also happen to have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll let you get back to it then,” I said and fiddled with the belt of Bliss’ bathrobe. 

“Alright. I love you, Ella.” 

“Mm-hmm. Me, too. Goodbye.” 

“Bye.” 

I ended the call and slid the phone back into my purse. I fiddled with the belt of the bathrobe again and bit my lip. I hadn’t returned his sentiment, and I didn’t feel anything. My husband of twenty one years had just told me he loved me, and I didn’t feel anything. Instead the three little words had been hollow in my ears. Empty. A force of habit. 

Could the words “I love you” become that? A force of habit and nothing more? A way to end a call? Or had the emptiness something to do with my growing feelings for the young woman sleeping upstairs? 

You’re going to make me fall in love with you. 

Was that what was happening? Was I falling in love with Bliss? Wasn’t it way too soon to even think about falling in love? I wasn’t completely sure. 

But one thing I was sure of: 

I was not in love with my husband anymore. And I probably hadn’t been for quite a while now. I just hadn’t dared to fully acknowledge it until now. I had been too scared, to fixated on maintaining the normal life I’d had until now. 

But what was normal and what wasn’t? Who deemed whether something was normal or not? Who was the judge of that?

Again, I found no answers, but it felt as though I had just reached some sort of bridge or crossroad, and one thing was certain: there was no way I could carry on as before. Something had changed. Not all at once. No, the change had come gradually. I just hadn’t seen it. Or perhaps I had, but I had refused to acknowledge it. 

I wondered why this was alright with Stephen. He clearly didn’t want me to come to Boston. That much was obvious. He preferred seeing me on a monthly basis instead of on a daily. How could he possibly be satisfied with that? 

I wondered when things had gone south between us. Probably longer ago than what I thought. Stephen bought the apartment in Boston shortly after Lucas had turned ten. Just for safety, he had said. Just in case there were problems at the company, and he needed to stay the weekend. But he had said that he didn’t expect to ever use the place.

That turned out to be untrue. Three weeks after he had bought the apartment, he called home and said that he needed to stay the weekend in Boston. He had been very apologetic and claimed that it wouldn’t happen again. 

That wasn’t true either. It had happened regularly after that, and soon the stays in Boston became longer and longer. And soon that became routine. Like so many other things. 

I sighed deeply. Was that the reason I had ended up here? In Bliss’ house, wearing Bliss’ bathrobe? 

No. The reason for that was me. I couldn’t blame anyone else for my actions.

I rubbed my forehead. What I wouldn’t give to return to that state of reckless abandon I had been in last night. But unfortunately, my mind was crystal clear this morning, and now I was forced to think about things I didn’t really want to think about. 

“Ella?” 

I turned around and found Bliss standing at the foot of the stairs. However cliché it sounded, she had wrapped the duvet around her, and oddly enough, it didn’t feel like a cliché. She looked positively endearing, with the duvet wrapped around her, and her hair in a tousled mess of curls.

“I was afraid you’d left,” she said as she shuffled closer. How she managed not to trip in the duvet was a bit of a mystery. 

“My clothes are still upstairs,” I gently pointed out. 

“Oh, right. I’m still a bit sleepy,” Bliss said and shook her head. 

I chuckled lightly. 

“You look cute in my bathrobe,” she said, and an arm draped around my waist from behind. 

“I feel a little ridiculous,” I admitted. 

“Don’t. You look great.” 

I scoffed. 

“But I’m a little disappointed you’re up,” Bliss murmured into the softness of the borrowed bathrobe. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re robbing me of the opportunity to make you breakfast in bed.” 

“Oh, god.” I shook my head.

“I was gonna make you a full English breakfast,” Bliss revealed, and I laughed because I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had brought me breakfast in bed. 

“Well, I’m sorry that I took that opportunity from you,” I said a bit sardonically. 

“Maybe I’ll get another chance?” Bliss suggested. 

I bit my lip and my laughter instantly stopped. 

“I’m sorry,” Bliss said quickly, rushed. “I say stupid stuff. I just... I just like you so much.” 

“I like you too,” I said quietly. “Everything is just so... messy.” 

“I know,” Bliss said. She tried to move her arm away from my waist, but I gently placed my hand upon it, indicating that I didn’t want her to move. 

I suddenly thought back to some of my first art lessons. The times where I had tried to think of Bliss’ body as a landscape, but still had been envious of her youth. Or had I? 

“Have you ever looked at a woman and considered whether you wanted to be her, or be with her?” I asked and immediately felt silly. To me it seemed like a dumb question. 

“Only all the time,” Bliss said. Her voice was a bit muddled because she was now talking into my neck. 

“Aren’t I too old to ask myself these kinds of questions?” I mumbled. For as long as I could remember, I’ve had a plan. Go to college. Study art. Go to Paris and paint. And then perhaps get married and get a white picket fence life. 

Some of those plans had come true, some of them hadn’t, but I had never pictured myself with another woman. I hadn’t really pictured myself with anyone in the beginning. I had been so focused on painting and practicing and getting better. But now I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t met Stephen during my first year at college. If I hadn’t went out on that date with him. If I hadn’t agreed to the next date and then the next. If we hadn’t become a solid thing so early on. What would have happened then? Would I have discovered that I liked women then? Would I even have gotten a girlfriend? 

No, probably not. I knew myself, and I wouldn’t have been brave enough to embrace it had I found out back then. I would have kept it bottled up. I would have hidden my true feelings. 

“No,” Bliss said. “You’re not.” 

I swallowed something. I couldn’t hide what I was feeling for Bliss. I couldn’t deny it.

“Do you think I’m just a confused housewife?” I asked plainly. 

“No, I don’t,” Bliss said gently. 

“But what am I then?!” I asked slightly frustrated. 

Her grip around my waist tightened slightly. “I can’t answer that, Ella. The only one who can do that is you,” she said, still gently. 

“I feel like I’m living one life, and while it’s good, it’s still not...” my voice faded, and I shook my head. “I feel like something is missing.” 

Bliss’ arm moved from my waist, and she squeezed my shoulder instead. 

“I know how you make me feel,” I quietly continued. “I know how I feel when I’m with you.” 

“And how do you feel?” 

Vibrant. Happy. Strong. Bubbly. 

“Alive,” I settled on. That was the most fitting word for it. I came alive when she touched me, I felt warm when she kissed me. Contend. 

“You said something to me last night,” I continued. 

“I think I said many things to you last night, Ella,” Bliss said with a touch of amusement in her voice. “Are you thinking of anything in particular?” 

“You said ‘you’re going to make me fall in love with you’,” I said. 

“You’re right. I did.” 

“Did you.... Did you mean it?” 

“Yes,” Bliss said immediately. “If I’m not exceptionally careful, I’ll end up falling in love with you.”

I could end up falling in love with you, too. 

I didn’t say that. Instead I said: “I have to go.” 

Bliss moved and then she was standing in front of me instead. “Please don’t.” 

“No, it’s not like that,” I promised her. “I’ll come back.” 

“You will?” 

I nodded. “I’ll be... on my own for the rest of the week, and I thought that perhaps I could... spend some of the time with you? If you’d like, of course, I don’t want to impose-“ 

“Ella. I want nothing more than to see you again, alright?” Bliss firmly interrupted and put her hands on my shoulders again. “I want to have the opportunity to make breakfast for you and share a shower with you.” 

My stomach clenched pleasantly at that. “I’d like that too. But right now I think I have to get dressed.” 

“Shame. You look good in my bathrobe.” 

I chuckled as I went back upstairs. Bliss followed me, and she grinned as she picked up the purple dress from the floor and tossed it into her closet. She dropped the duvet, and for a moment, her naked   
body was thoroughly distracting me, but she quickly showed mercy on me and put some clothes on. Not much, just a denim skirt and a tanktop, but still, it was an “improvement”. 

I on the other hand, had no choice but to wear the same clothes as I had worn last night. 

“Maybe you could bring an extra set of clothes when you come back?” Bliss suggested. Wait, when are you gonna come back?” 

“Would it be alright if I came back tonight?” I asked almost hesitantly. 

“What do you think?” Bliss said as she closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around me.

Completely naturally, my arms draped around her. How was it possible for her to smell so good in the morning? She smelled of cocoa and honey and Bliss. 

“Ella...” Nothing else. But the way she said it made me wobble in my decision about leaving. 

I had to force myself. I had to remind myself of how uncomfortable I felt in this dress, and how I needed a shower. How I needed to brush my hair, and how I needed to think. 

It took a few kisses, but finally, I managed to leave Bliss’ bedroom. She walked me out on the porch and then she made me promise to come back tonight. 

I had no problem with promising her that....

***********************

Once I had unlocked the front door, I immediately went upstairs and took a shower. A much needed one. I washed the sweaty feeling off me, and then washed my hair. Twice. Not very good for the water consumption, but my hair was a complete mess, so today I allowed myself

After I had finished showering, I went inside the bedroom and got dressed. This time in a pair of yoga pants and a tanktop. No more stockings and fancy dresses. 

Once that was done, and my wet hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, I ventured back downstairs where my laptop had been left on the dining table. I quickly switched it on and while waiting for it to “come alive”, I made myself a cup of tea and found two bananas. Not much of a meal, but for some reason, I wasn’t really hungry this morning. 

The thought of smoking a cigarette lingered in my mind, but I forced myself to drop it. The smell would linger in the curtains, and I would feel horrible afterwards, knowing full well that I had done something I shouldn’t. 

I paused with the teacup near my lips. Done something I shouldn’t. Why was I worried about something so insignificant as smoking a forbidden cigarette when I already had done something I shouldn’t? 

I thought of talking my husband this morning. Thought of hearing his voice and how it had made me feel... absolutely nothing. I had felt numb. Like we had been talking to each other from two different galaxies. 

An unexpected rush of guilt washed over me. Because how could I feel so little for the man I had been married to for twenty one years? The man I had a child with. 

I poured the rest of my tea into the sink and then left the cup standing as I went over to the dining table. The laptop was ready for use, so I settled down in front of it and perched my reading glasses on my nose as I tapped in my password and then opened a browser. 

I felt silly as I tapped words into the Google search engine. I couldn’t believe that I was actually googling this, but I didn’t know where else to turn. I didn’t know where else to find my answers. As I clicked “search” I tried to remind myself that I probably wasn’t the first woman to google this. Even if it felt like that way.

It didn’t even take ten seconds before an abundance of answers came up on the computer screen, and I frowned slightly as I clicked on the first one. A woman “confessed” on a page called reddit that she had a “thing” going with another woman. I quickly read her story, and while there were some similarities, I couldn’t really find myself in her story. For starters, she was significantly younger than I, and she openly admitted that she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with the woman. That she loved her husband, and had no intention of leaving him, but still couldn’t bring herself to give up the other woman because of the “thrill”. 

The people commenting on her post weren’t very nice to her either. They called her everything from attention seeker to less pretty words. 

I clicked away from the page. No, that provide me with the answers I was looking for. Then I stumbled over another blog post. One that seemed more personal. “Married to a man and in love with a woman”, the headline said, and my heart began hammering in my chest. There I read about how the writer of the post had been married to a man and raised two daughters with him. A paragraph from the blog post almost attacked my eyes: ‘While we had the usual relationship problems of any marriage, he was loving (in his own way), a good provider and a kind, loyal husband. We had the perfect marriage — except that we had neither emotional intimacy nor good sex. Life felt bland, and I was restless and lonely in my marriage.’

I suddenly felt an enormous lump in my throat. If that didn’t ring familiar, I didn’t know what did. I eagerly continued to my journey through this woman’s blog post and read about how the woman she had fallen for had “occupied her daydreams for more than she cared to admit”. And ‘although I didn’t understand this kind of love, it was impossible not to act on it.’

Another poignant sentence attacked my eyes: ‘I thought I was the only married woman facing this kind of awakening. I was falling in love with a woman, but I didn’t feel like a lesbian.’ In a parentheses, the woman had wittily asked if anyone knew what it felt like to be a lesbian. Awakening. I couldn’t think of a more poignant description of what I was feeling. 

I continued to read and bit my lip as the woman openly told about how she had started to sneak around with the woman she had fallen for. How she had started to lie about where she was. How she had known that what she was doing was wrong, but her heart and body were way ahead of her mind. 

She had revealed the truth to her husband, she wrote in the blog post, and they had tried couple’s counselling, and she had constantly been in doubt of whether to stay or leave and explore her awakened love for women. One moment she was sure she wanted to stay with her husband, and the next she wanted to leave. 

Eventually she had done it. Eventually, she had left her husband, and while the relationship with the woman hadn’t lasted, she had met another woman whom she had spent thirty one years with until the woman died. I swallowed back the lump in my throat, suddenly finding myself close to weeping because of that woman’s courage. She had followed her heart and ended up spending thirty one years with a woman she loved. She had faced all of this in 1979, and while it wasn’t terribly long ago, I knew that it still had been a different time. Of course there were still people who were judgmental today, but I chose to believe that people were more open minded. 

She had concluded her post with emphasizing how important it was to honor her own happiness. That sacrificing her happiness wasn’t the answer to make her loved ones happy. My head was spinning.

I continued my search through the great wide web. I continued to read personal stories from women who had been in my position. Who had been married and then suddenly fallen in love with a woman, and the more I read, the more valid I felt. Their stories were so similar to mine. A “safe” and steady marriage that somehow lacked something, and then suddenly a woman appeared and made everything click. 

I could recognize all of it, and I caught myself nodding more than once. If I loved Stephen as much as I did the day I married him when I was twenty one, I wouldn’t have jeopardized everything like I did right now. 

I closed the tab and went back to the Google search engine where I tapped in a new sentence: ‘coming out late.’ Immediately, hundredth of different stories about finding yourself late greeted me. Some of the women had been in their late twenties, some in their mid-thirties, some in their forties like me, and there were even stories from women who had turned both fifty and sixty before they had finally found out who they really were. 

Something cold detached from my chest. If it wasn’t too late for them, it wasn’t too late for me either. 

Another personal story caught my attention, and I blushed slightly as I read through her description of how it felt to have make love to the woman she had fallen in love with. ‘A full bodied, sensual experience full of nuance and complexity,’ she called it. An avid description. 

As I reached the end of the story, I was openly crying. Because her experience was so similar to mine. I could recognize myself in her confusion, in her denial, and in her guilt. How she had to forget about the woman for the sake of her family. How she had forced herself to carry on as always, but how her feelings for the woman had been stronger in the end. How she hadn’t been able to stay away. 

I realized that they were me. All of these women. All of them who had felt restless and thought that they were simply having a midlife crisis but then had discovered something else. 

I was not having a midlife crisis, and I wasn’t a confused woman either. I was a woman in the process of finding myself. I was in the process of finding out who I really was, and I knew that that discovery meant something. It was valid. Even if I didn’t make it in my teen years or in my twenties. My feelings were real, and they deserved acknowledgement just as much as the feelings teenagers and young adults discovers. 

My heart hammered in my chest and I felt dizzy. It almost felt like I was going to be sick, so I abandoned the laptop, ripped my glasses off and rushed upstairs to the bathroom. 

I didn’t throw up. Instead I stood hunched over the sink for several minutes. Breathed in and breathed out. Then I looked up at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide, and my cheeks were rosy. 

Physically, I looked the same, but I felt so different on the inside. It didn’t feel like it had been terribly long since I last stood here in front of my mirror and tried to convince myself that I wasn’t gay. Now the situation had completely shifted. I straightened my posture, curled my fingers around the sink for support. 

“I’m...” my voice failed me, and I licked my dry lips. Come on, Ella. You can do this. You can say it. The word isn’t dangerous. 

“I’m...” once again, my voice broke before I could finish the sentence, and my hands shook slightly. My knuckles were turning white. My stomach tied in knots. I hoped I wouldn’t throw up.

I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t actually get that one little word past my lips, and it frustrated me. If I can’t even admit it to myself.... How was I supposed to admit it to the rest of the world? 

Fresh tears prickled in my eyes, and I quickly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand before the tears could fall. I wouldn’t cry. Shouldn’t cry. Couldn’t cry. 

And yet this situation was appropriate for tears. It felt as though everything I thought I knew about myself was now crumbling in favor of this new knowledge. This knowledge I was certain was true, but still couldn’t quite admit to myself. 

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. 

And then I heard a faint scratching sound coming from downstairs. It didn’t take me long to identify the scratching sound as being the sound of a phone vibrating against a surface, and I quickly forced myself to snap out of my mini panic attack and went downstairs again. 

I was so afraid that it was Stephen calling me again, and relief washed over me when the screen said, ‘Delia calling...’ my fingers trembled as I swiped them over the screen, and my voice was equally weak as I said: “hello?” 

“Ella,” Delia said in the other end, and her voice was warm and friendly, but I could hear some noise in the background. 

“Delia,” I said and tried to make my voice somewhat stronger. “I thought you were at work now?” 

“Yes, well, Mr. Haywood send me home. Apparently, morning sickness is a very valid reason to stay home.” 

“Oh,” I chuckled meekly. “Are you driving right now? Is that the noise I can hear?” 

“Yes, but don’t worry, I have both hands on the wheel.” 

I tried to laugh, but the laughter got stuck in my throat. “How are you doing? How is the baby?” 

“The baby,” Delia repeated and laughed a little. “God, it’s still so strange hearing people asking me about that.” 

“Well, you better get used to it,” I teased. 

“Yes, I suppose so. But we’re both doing fine. Apart from this tremendous morning sickness,” Delia clicked her tongue. “According to my mother, it’s a clear sign that I’ll have a girl.” 

“It’s an old-wives tale,” I warned. “Don’t fall for it.” 

“I’ll try not to,” Delia chuckled. “God, it’s so nice to talk to a sane person!” 

“What do you mean?” I didn’t feel particularly sane right now. 

“I just got off the phone with my mother, and I’m telling you, this is turning her into a right grandmother!” Delia huffed. “And I mean that in the worst possible way. She ranted for an hour, Ella. An hour.   
And afterwards she send me a list over all the food I should avoid and different teas that should “strengthen the baby”.” 

“Oh.” I laughed a little. 

“I don’t even drink tea!” Delia exclaimed. “And she wouldn’t stop nagging me about whether I would be having a baby shower or not.” 

“Isn’t it a bit soon to think about baby showers already?” I asked. 

“That’s what I told her,” Delia said, and I was certain she was rolling her eyes. “But of course she wouldn’t listen.”

“Of course not,” I said. I knew all about Delia’s relationship with her mother that sometimes could be very stormy. 

“But that’s enough about me,” Delia said briskly. “This is not a rant call. How are you doing? How is... Everything?” 

“I...” my voice broke, and the façade I had hastily built while talking to Delia crumbled. Because I knew exactly what Delia was asking me. She knew what was going on. 

“Ella? Ella are you still there?” 

“I’m here,” I confirmed and blinked rapidly in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. But my valiant attempt didn’t help enormously. I wasn’t capable of choking back a soft sob. 

“Ella, what’s going on?” Delia asked gently, and all trace of previous annoyance in her voice immediately subsided. “Are you crying?” 

“Maybe I am a little bit,” I admitted and almost laughed. 

“What’s happening?” Delia asked, gently yet determined. “Talk to me, please.” 

“I think... I think I might be gay,” I whispered, and the admittance made my throat constrict and my head spin. I sat down. Just in case I was gonna keel over.

“Oh,” Delia said. Just that. 

“W-what do you mean “oh”?” I said. My voice was shaking. “Aren’t you gonna-“

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you expect me to yell at you and say it’s a sin or perhaps laugh and tell you that you’re crazy?” Delia scoffed in the other end of the phone. “I am many things, but judgmental is not one   
of them, honey.” 

“So you don’t... You don’t think that I’m a silly, bored woman who has gotten a crazy idea?” I asked croakily. 

“Definitely not,” Delia said firmly. “My only regret is that we’re not having this conversation face to face.”

“Yes, that would have been good. I just... I just needed to say it out loud.” Fresh tears landed on my cheeks. 

“You’ve seen Bliss again.” it wasn’t a question. 

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“And you’ve fallen for her.” 

“Yes.” I shook my head. “I know it sounds ridiculous because everything has happened so fast, but I-“

“You don’t have to explain your feelings to me, Ella,” Delia gently interrupted. 

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. “On the one hand I feel as though everything is suddenly making sense, but on the other hand, I have no idea what to do with this knowledge. If I say it out loud... If I   
say to everyone, things are gonna change, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that change. What about Lucas? What will this mean for him?” 

“What about you?” Delia asked gently. “What will it mean for you?” 

I didn’t answer that. Instead I said: “I’ve done something you’ve forbidden me to ever do.” 

“And what’s that?” Delia asked, now sounding somewhat confused. 

“I’ve self-diagnosed.”

“And what does that mean?” 

“I went online and googled it,” I said, only feeling half-embarrassed about looking for answers online. 

“And what exactly did you google?” 

“Stories about married women who fell in love with other women,” I said quietly. “Stories about coming out late.” 

“Was it enlightening then?” Delia asked, and I noted that I couldn’t hear any noise in the other end anymore. Had she pulled over? 

“I... Delia, I could recognize myself in all the stories. All of them described how it felt like lightening had struck. How everything suddenly made sense.” What I did next, could only be described as unloading as I told my best friend everything I had learned today. How the women described the feeling of being lost, how their marriage to the outside viewer could be described as “the perfect marriage”, but actually lacked emotional intimacy and “satisfyingly” sex. I spoke of how I recognized the feeling one of the women had described. That life felt bland, and how I felt lonely and lost in my marriage. It wasn’t easy to talk about, not even to my best friend, and my voice broke several times during the conversation. 

“And then I met Bliss, and everything sort of just... clicked,” I whispered.

“Oh, sweetie,” Delia said. 

“I don’t know what to do,” I murmured. 

“Are you sure about that?” Delia asked gently.

And the thing was, I wasn’t. Once again, I was torn between following rules and regulations or following my gut instinct. The instinct that had lead me to Bliss over and over again. 

“Everything is so messy,” I said quietly and rubbed a hand over my face. 

“Yes, I never should have suggested you to join that art class,” Delia said.

Despite everything, I still managed to bark out a laugh at that, and even be a little sardonic: “no, it was a very bad idea.” 

Delia laughed too. “Why don’t I stop by for something to drink and a chat?” 

“You’re not supposed to drink,” I reminded her and rubbed a hand over my face again. 

“Fine. Then you’ll have alcohol, and I’ll have tea,” Delia said. “I can be with you in an hour.” 

“You’re two hours away.” 

“Exactly. I can be with you in an hour.” 

I laughed again. I knew that Delia enjoyed speeding. 

“No, you’re supposed to meet Tom for lunch, and I don’t want to ruin your plans,” I said. I knew Delia’s routine. “I’m fine. Really, I am.” 

“Ella-“

“I mean it,” I assured. “I am fine. Or, I will be.” 

“I happen to know that the world wouldn’t come to an end if I didn’t have lunch with Tom today,” Delia pointed out. 

“Maybe not, but you don’t have to drive all the way here. I’ll be fine, and I sort of have... plans tonight.” 

“With Bliss?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” Delia said, not a trace of judgement in her voice. “Then I’ll be calling you tomorrow. And just say the word and I’ll be there, alright?” 

“Alright. Bye, Delia. Take care of yourself. Don’t speed. And have some mint pastels. They’ll help with the nausea.” 

“I’ll remember that,” Delia chuckled. “Bye. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” 

“Yes. Alright.” 

We ended the call, and I ended up sitting and staring at the phone long after I had placed it on the table. My head was spinning, and I felt dizzy all over again. I had just sort of come out to my best friend. 

At least I thought that was what just happened. And Delia hadn’t judged me. I hadn’t expected her to, but still, we had known each other for thirteen years. This had to come as a surprise to her. And yet it felt like it hadn’t. She hadn’t seemed very surprised by what I had told her. And she hadn’t even asked me if I was sure. 

Was I sure? 

Once again, I thought of everything I had read online, every blog post made by women who had discovered who they were late, and once again, I felt that sense of recognition. Everything just seemed to click. 

My head snapped up. I was just sitting and doing nothing, and if I kept that up, I would end up getting lost in my own head, and I wasn’t interested in that. For some reason, I felt confused enough as it was. 

I rose from the chair and ended up walking upstairs. What was it that Bliss had said? That I should bring an extra set of clothes when I came back? My stomach tightened slightly, but this time in anticipation. Yes, I could do that. I could bring an extra set of clothes. Leaving her house in the same clothes I had worn the night before made everything seem so sordid. 

I ended up packing an extra set of clothes. And then I went into my little studio and looked at all the sketches I had made of Bliss. The sight of her on the pages made the blood roll quicker in my veins. If I weren’t careful, I would be needing an extra shower in a moment. 

I forced myself to think of something else and then I began painting. Not that the picture turned out to be very good. I was definitely not trying hard enough.

***********************

That same night, I drove back to Bliss’ place. With an extra set of clothing tucked away in a small bag. It was probably absolute madness, but I had no second thoughts about going back to her house. I had to see her again. 

Her house was dark, I noted as I walked up the path towards the little porch. The windows looked almost completely black, but when I put a hand on the doorknob, I quickly realized that the door was unlocked. I silently felt appalled once more. How could she not lock her doors? It wasn’t very late, but nevertheless. 

I went inside and was greeted by a completely dark house. Was Bliss out? No, her car was still here. Had she gone somewhere on foot then? That was possible. If that was the case, I would just wait for her right here. 

But then I heard a sound. It was by no means a loud sound, just a soft creak, but it still prompted me to call: “Bliss? Are you here?” 

“In the basement,” came the muffled reply, and once again, I felt appalled. The basement, really? She’s leaving the door unlocked while she’s in the basement? How is she able to hear what’s going on   
upstairs then? I cringed slightly while everything in me screamed reckless!

The door to the basement was half-open, and I frowned in sheer concentration as I went down the steep stairs. I wasn’t particularly interested in falling down the stairs and breaking my neck. God, it’s dark down here. How can she even see what she’s doing in this darkness? 

I battled the stairs and found another door at the foot of the stairs. At least that door was closed. I probably would have felt better if it had been locked but closed could work too. 

I opened the surprisingly heavy door and went inside the basement itself. That room was nicely lit up, and I could see everything. Including the mess, but I didn’t care about that. I hadn’t expected a tidy basement. Not from Bliss. 

Bliss looked up when I stepped inside, and her face split into a grin. “Ella.” 

I was only distracted by the look on her face for a moment. I was mostly focused on what she was doing. She was sitting on a stool in front of a pottery wheel. A lump of clay was spinning around, and   
Bliss had her hands in the clay, trying to shape something. Now and then she dipped her hands into a bowl of water and then resumed her work on the clay. I thought of the yellow plate I once had given back to her and wondered if she had made it herself. 

“You’re a potter,” I said. I wasn’t even that surprised. I knew that whatever Bliss was doing had to be something quirky, but I just hadn’t expected it to be this. 

“At least I’m trying to be one,” Bliss quipped and turned her head slightly to look at me. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was sort of afraid that you-“ 

“That I wouldn’t come back?” I gently finished the sentence. 

“Yes,” she admitted. 

“Well, here I am,” I said and smiled a little. I immediately felt calmer. And that was just from seeing her. I took the opportunity to get a good look at her. She was still wearing that denim skirt I had seen   
her in earlier, but she had traded the tanktop for a sports bra. And she was wearing an apron over it. 

“Yes, here you are,” Bliss nodded. “Come and sit with me.”

“Oh no,” I said and shook my head firmly. I knew what a cliché it would be if I did that. 

“Please?” Bliss said and begged oh so sweetly. “I want you close to me, and I can’t exactly touch you when I have clay on my hands. I wouldn’t want to ruin your clothes.” 

I looked down at my yoga pants and tanktop attire. My clothes wasn’t anything special. I should inform her of that. 

But before I got the chance to do that, Bliss once again said: “please?” 

I rolled my eyes just a bit. 

“There’s plenty of room for both of us on the chair,” Bliss said coaxingly and wiggled slightly on the stool to prove her point. 

And honestly, I wanted to be close to her too, so I ignored the cliché aspect in it and walked over to her. She wasn’t exactly right in her statement about “plenty of room for both of us”. There was about an inch of stool for me, and I had to straddle the damn thing in order to even sit down, but I managed to battle all obstacles, and soon I found myself sitting down on the stool, sharing it with Bliss and feeling the warmth from her body as she leaned backwards slightly. 

“This is a cliché,” I told her as I watched how she worked with the clay. 

“Yes, but it’s nice too,” Bliss chuckled and leaned backwards again. “I’ve missed you.” 

“You saw me this morning.” 

“I know. But I’ve still missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” I openly admitted. 

“You have?” 

“Of course I have. I even brought an extra set of clothes.”

“Seriously?” 

“Indeed.” 

She chuckled as she repeated “indeed” and then muttered something about how British I was. 

I looked at her hands once more as she effortlessly shaped the clay. It looked like she was making a bowl. 

“So this is what you want to do,” I said. “Be a potter.” 

“Yeah,” Bliss said. “I know it’s probably just a whimsical dream, but it’s something that I’ve always been wanting to do. Ever since I was a little girl.” 

“Who taught you?” I asked curiously. 

“My mom,” Bliss said softly and wetted her hands in the bowl of water once more. “She was brilliant at pottery. Even had her own little business running.” 

“It looks difficult,” I said as I looked at the clay being spun around on the wheel. I wanted to ask about her mother, but I could somehow sense that now wasn’t the time for such questions. 

“It’s actually not. It’s surprisingly easy once you get the hang of it. I could teach you.” 

I chuckled. “I don’t think I would be very good at it.” 

“Says who?” Bliss scoffed. “You won’t know until you tried.” 

“No, I suppose you’re right about that.” 

“Try and touch it,” Bliss said and turned her head so she could give me a sideway glance. 

I wrinkled my nose. “It’s sticky.” 

“Yes, it is,” Bliss agreed and cackled slightly. 

“I’ll get my hands dirty.” 

“Yes you will. And there’s a bowl full of nice, cleansing water right here,” she teased. 

“It’s a cliché,” I pointed out once more. 

“And a damn good one too,” Bliss said, unbothered. 

I sighed deeply. “You’re not gonna leave me alone until I touch the clay, are you?” 

“Nope. You got that right.” 

Sighing again, I delicately placed my hands on top of hers as she formed and shaped the clay. “Happy now?” 

“Very,” Bliss said, and even though I couldn’t see her face completely, I knew that she was smiling. “This is very nice. I like your hands.” 

“You like my hands?” I echoed and raised my eyebrows slightly. 

“Mmm. You have beautiful hands.” 

“Hm.” I had never thought about that. 

She leaned back and rested the back of her head on the top of my shoulder. For a moment, the only sound in the basement was the sound of the pottery wheel, and I thought back to the morning and afternoon I had spent researching. 

“Can I ask you something?” I said and ignored my desire to wrap an arm around her waist. I couldn’t do that now. My hands were dirty with clay. 

“Yes, anything,” Bliss said, and for a second, I was utterly distracted by the way her arms flexed as she worked the clay. 

“How old were you when you found out that you were...” I paused, suddenly realizing that I had no idea what Bliss was. Gay? Bisexual? Or maybe even pansexual? There were so many ways of expressing   
oneself today, and I wasn’t familiar with all the terms. 

“Gay?” Bliss finished the sentence. “I was sixteen and had been crushing super hard on a girl from my class. One day we kissed each other, and it was a done deal, as they say. Everything just fell into place   
immediately. I haven’t kissed a guy since, and I can’t imagine doing it again.” 

Neither could I. In fact I couldn’t imagine kissing anyone but Bliss. The idea of trading her warm kisses, her soft caresses with the autopilot life I had been living for a long while was... Unpleasant, to say the least. 

“I think I might be too,” I whispered. My voice was quiet, but this time it didn’t break. 

Bliss hands stilled underneath mine. “You think you’re...?” 

“Gay,” I whispered. “I think I’m gay too.” 

Bliss turned her upper body, so we were face to face. Her dark eyes gleamed slightly, but her voice was quite solemn when she asked: “and how do you feel about that?” 

I laughed croakily, because it sounded like she was trying to be a therapist. “Scared,” I admitted. “Stunned. Enlightened. Like a door I didn’t even know existed have suddenly been opened, and I have no idea how to close it again.” 

“I don’t think that particular door can be closed,” Bliss said quietly. 

“No, I believe you’re right about that.”

She stopped working on the clay, and her hands grew lax as she turned her head more properly and kissed me. 

I immediately returned the kiss and for five seconds I forgot that my hands were dirty and placed them on her thighs, on top of her denim skirt. But then I remembered and quickly moved my hands away. 

“My hands are a mess. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. And don’t stop touching me,” she said, removing her own hands from the clay and then placing them on top of mine. 

“You’ll get it all over your clothes,” I protested. 

“So I’ll take it off,” Bliss said. “Now kiss me again.” 

And I did. Quite thoroughly even. We ended up getting clay all over our clothes, but as Bliss cleverly pointed out, clothes could easily be removed.......


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Morning again. My back was a bit stiff as I finally drifted back into the world of consciousness. I sleepily lifted a hand to push my tousled hair away from my face. I felt very warm, and, admittedly, a bit sticky between my legs. I needed a shower and my back was stiff, but I was happy. And all because of the woman who was still fast asleep next to me. I turned my head slightly to look at Bliss. She was breathing deeply in and out as she slept, and I could barely see her face because of the bush of wild curls that was in the way. But I could see tiny bits of clay in her hair. I bit back a chuckle. How did the clay end up in her hair of all places? She would have to take a shower this morning. There was no way she could brush the clay out of her hair. I briefly considered a little mystery. How did Bliss brush her hair? With a special brush, perhaps? 

I sighed softly. I had very little desire to move. My legs were completely entangled with Bliss’ and the thought of getting out of bed was cruel. 

Without waking her I propped myself up on one elbow so I could glance at her clock radio. Half past eight. Bright and early this time. I ran a finger through my mussed up hair again. This was the third time I was waking up next to Bliss. The third time I woke up in a bed that wasn’t my own. I pursed my lips slightly as I searched my brain for any traces of guilt. 

But oddly enough, I just felt... peaceful. It was like yesterday’s realization had left me in a state where I was completely calm.

I knew what I wanted. 

Which was a different life. 

And I was painfully aware of what that decision would mean for my family. How it would turn everything upside down. I would disrupt the calm life my family had lead until now, and my heart hammered a little faster when I envisioned the rage I would be met with. I twisted the bedding slightly between my fingers and then pulled the covers up to my chest. I knew what I wanted. I knew what meeting Bliss had meant to me, what it had awakened in me. 

But I also knew that the thing happening between Bliss and I were going very fast. I wasn’t a “fast” type. I had never been. I didn’t just “click” with people like I had done with Bliss. I tried not to be naïve about it. After all, she was so young and with endless possibilities ahead of her. What exactly did I want from her? Commitment? I scoffed. Don’t be daft. You’ve only known her for a few months. 

And yet...

I had never felt so strongly about anyone before. Hadn’t felt this sort of connection before. 

But still...

I decided that I wanted nothing from her. Which sounded cold and calculated and like I was trying to understate what had happened between us, but that wasn’t the case. I knew that what had happened between us meant so much, but I had to clear up my mess. I would inform my husband that I wanted a divorce. And I was not gonna lie about it when he asked for a reason. I would not lie about myself and who I was, but at the same time, I wanted to protect Bliss. I knew that things would get messy when I dropped the bomb, and picturing this beautiful, pure girl in the middle of it all was just too hard. 

That’s why I had decided that I wanted “nothing” from her. She had said that she liked me very much, but I wouldn’t ask everything of her here and now. This was a lot to spring on her too. I had gone from being a woman who denied that a kiss meant anything, and even more strongly denied that she was gay, to shifting a hundredth and eighty degree and suddenly realize she was gay. I knew that it wasn’t just rainbows and butterflies. I couldn’t just expect her to take my hand and then run off into the sunset with me. I had to be realistic. 

There was gonna be a break between Stephen and me. A bad break that would leave us both raw. And I had to think about Lucas too. In fact he was my main concern in all this. This was gonna leave him hurt too. I was putting him through just about the worst thing any parent could put her child through. The pain of seeing your parents splitting up. There was a good chance he would be angry at me. I would have to take that anger, and once he was ready, I would be there for him in any way I could. I would support him, help him, and I would let him know that nobody was gonna make any decisions for him. He was free to live wherever he wanted too. 

I turned my head and looked at Bliss. Where did she fit into all this? I didn’t know. But I did know that being apart was gonna hurt. I couldn’t even begin to think about how much I was gonna miss her. 

Perhaps she would come and find me afterwards. Once the storm had blown over. Once everything was a bit calmer. I was selfish enough to hope that she would. 

I sighed again and then I reached out and cupped her cheek tenderly. She deserved more than this. She deserved more than a woman whose life was about to turn into a complete mess. 

“Mmm,” she breathed croakily and then she opened her eyes and looked at me. A smile tugged at her lips. “Hey, you.” 

“Hey,” I said and returned her smile. 

Bliss chuckled a little as she raised a hand and brushed her fingers through my hair. “You’ve got clay in your hair.” 

“So do you,” I pointed out and slipped my fingers through her mess of curls. 

“And you’re awake before me again,” Bliss said. “Damn. This means I can’t surprise you with breakfast in bed this time either.”

I snickered quietly. 

“But sharing a shower then?” Bliss asked as she propped herself up on her elbow. “Can I coax you into that?” 

“I don’t think I’m much of a co-shower person to be honest.” 

“You could try?” Bliss said sweetly. “Please?” 

I shook my head slightly. “Do you have any idea what kind of effect you have on me?” 

“Do you have any idea what kind of effect you have on me?” she shot back and then glanced at the clock radio. “God, it’s early. Why are we not still asleep?” 

“You think this is early?” I couldn’t resist to mock. 

“Damn right I do.” 

I chuckled. “I’m usually out on my run by now.” 

“You run?” Bliss asked interested. 

“I do,” I confirmed with a nod. “I started recently, and I must admit that I enjoy it more than I thought I would.” 

“So you’re a sadist,” Bliss teased. “Interesting. Wouldn’t have pegged you for one.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything sadistic about wanting to stay in shape,” I defended. 

Bliss laughed again and her hand slipped lower and landed on my abdomen. 

“What are you doing?” I asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“Feeling your shape,” Bliss teased. 

Despite the warm hand resting on my belly, I tried to make conversation and prolong our moment in bed for a little while: “and you? What do you do in the morning when you don’t sleep in?” 

“Hmm,” Bliss lightly brushed her thumb in circular motions over my stomach. “Sometimes I have the early shift at Pauline’s. It’s very fun to serve the first cup of coffee for the morning sour guests.” 

I chuckled, but the sound was somewhat strangled. It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying when she was touching me at the same time. 

“And when I don’t have the morning shift, I go downstairs and work in the basement,” Bliss continued. “I can easily kill a few hours down there. Once I get started on a new project, there’s no stopping me.” 

“That’s how I feel with painting,” I said. 

“Yeah? And what’s your project right now then?” she asked, and her hand slipped a bit lower. 

“You,” I said and swallowed something. “Have been for months.” 

Bliss chuckled. “I think I like that.” Her hand slipped even lower and began tapping against that bone that seemed to afflict my entire system. “It could be fun if you could paint me more privately.” 

“P-privately?”

“Mhmm, you know, just you and me,” she specified and tapped her fingers lightly once more. 

“Oh.”

“So, running gal,” Bliss said as she slid closer to me. “How do you like this lazy morning so far?” 

“I like it very much,” I assured her. 

“Yeah? Well, I bet I could make you like it even more,” she husked, and then her fingers slid down the rest of the way. 

I gasped when I felt her fingers where I was still sticky from last night, but nevertheless was starting to feel warmer already.

She laughed, most likely at the expression on my face. “Admittedly, this is not the same as running, but I think it still counts as exercise, don’t you?” 

“Definitely,” I said, and then asked her to come closer. She immediately did so, and once she was close enough, I too slipped my hand lower so I could touch her like she was touching me. 

It was her turn to gasp, her turn to have wide eyes and I reached up with my other hand and touched her cheek tenderly. Then I wiggled my fingers slightly so I could run the tips over the sensitive little knot that I knew would make her gasp.

And she did indeed. And then she answered by touching me in the same fashion. None of us had closed our eyes, and there was something so intimate about looking into her eyes and see how they darkened when I touched her. I could see the lust in her eyes as I touched her, but I could see other things as well. Tenderness. Joy. Longing. Mirrors to the soul indeed. 

“Mmm, Ella!” she breathed and circled her own fingers faster in response to my ministrations. 

I inhaled sharply at that, and the scent of her filled my nostrils. She smelled wonderful. Of sleep and cocoa and honey. And very faintly of clay too. That made me smile. But then she was circling her   
fingers faster, and I was very much done with being amused. I wanted her to feel the same, so I quickened my pace too. 

Soon both of us were panting and gasping, and the pressure I felt between my legs was almost unbearable. It didn’t help enormously when she moved her fingers from my core, but I quickly deemed that protesting was unnecessary when she climbed on top of me, straddled my waist and then began to slowly grind herself against me. 

My jaw completely dropped at that level of friction and staying in bed had never been more appealing. 

Bliss smiled down at me as she continued to grind herself against me, and when I smiled back, I was certain my eyes reflected the same tenderness I had seen in hers. I moved my hips slowly to meet her pace, and she gasped and threw her head back. Her wild curls bounced around her face, and I was sure that I would never see anything more beautiful than her.

****************

Our extended morning was concluded in the shower. Bliss’ tiny shower, in which there actually wasn’t room for two people. I’m not completely sure how we made it work, the space was certainly crammed, but perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. The small amount of space meant that Bliss had to stand right behind me, and I thoroughly enjoyed feeling her body so close to mine. And it was also quite entertaining to watch her hair deflate completely. 

But most of all I just enjoyed having her close to her. The feeling of her arm slipping around my waist, the way she ran her fingers through my hair, claiming to search for clay, and the swell of her breasts against my back. 

I had never thought much of co-showers until now. The space was crammed, and really, it was a bit of a workout, but Bliss’ presence more than made up for it. Showering together felt very intimate. 

Almost as intimate as the eye contact, we’d had when we were still in bed. Her arm around my waist made me feel grounded, and I wondered how I was supposed to leave. Not the shower, but her in general. The idea of leaving seemed inhuman. I wanted to stay with every fiber of my body, but I knew that I of course couldn’t do that. No matter how much I wanted too. 

While Bliss wrestled with her “crazy” hair in the bathroom, I went back to the bedroom and put on the extra set of clothes I had brought. My navy slacks, the neat, cream colored bloused that tied at the front, and of course the navy camisole to wear underneath. The one that matched the slacks. I flushed slightly as I tugged my bra strap away underneath my blouse, so it didn’t peek out. The extra bra I had brought with me. And the extra pair of panties. I shook my head a little bit. I didn’t know what made me feel more like I was sneaking around. Leaving in the same clothes I had worn yesterday or leaving in a completely different outfit. At least Bliss is the owner of an extra toothbrush.

By the time I was done changing, Bliss still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom, so I went downstairs and ventured into her little kitchen. I figured that it wouldn’t be a problem if I made myself a cup of tea, so that’s exactly what I did. And while the kettle boiled, I began thinking once more. When Bliss was near me, it was so easy for me to forget the mess I was about to make. It was too easy to forget that I actually was having an affair right now. 

An affair. That was a dirty word in my book. It always had been. It was something that would make me wrinkle my nose in disgust and judge. But now...

The thing was, that what I had with Bliss didn’t feel dirty. How could something that felt so right also be dirty? I struggled to connect the two words. 

I frowned as I poured the boiling water into a cup and then found a tea bag in one of Bliss’ cupboards. I dunked the tea bag into the boiling water and stared absentmindedly at the water while it slowly changed color. My head was swimming with thoughts, and the word affair kept drifting in and out of my mind. I wondered why I was such a goddamn hypocrite. I had always seen affairs as something that was dirty and wrong, but when I was the one in the situation, I suddenly couldn’t see that it was wrong. Well, I could, but....  
God, this was complicated. 

I fished the tea bag out of the cup and then threw it into the rubbish bin. I was gonna end up getting a headache, but I couldn’t just tell myself to stop thinking about it. I couldn’t just switch my brain off. 

This was not like flipping a switch. Believing that would be naïve. No, this required thinking. And lots of it. 

My tea was ready, but instead of drinking it, I ended up standing and wringing my hands like I was doing a scene from a dramatic movie. I bit my lip and my heart started to thrum against my ribs. I was about to drop a bomb on my family. I was about to turn my son’s world upside down. And the thought alone was enough to make me balk for just a second and reconsider. Is it really the right thing to do?

I knew the answer. Yes. Yes, it was. And that was exactly what scared me. Divorce. And a completely different life. 

“Oh, good. You found the tea.”

My head whipped up, and I turned around when I heard Bliss’ voice. She was coming down the stairs, dressed in a pair of black jeans that appeared to be awfully tight, and a top with leopard pattern. She had solved her hair “problem” by making a turban out of a leopard patterned scarf and then tugging her hair away inside it. 

“You look nice,” I said and smiled a little. 

“So do you. But you also look worried,” Bliss observed as she slinked past me and opened the refrigerator. 

“I suppose I am a bit worried,” I said. 

“What are you thinking about?” Bliss asked as she grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge. 

“Something I’ve been too cowardly to think about until very recently.” 

Bliss sat the carton of orange juice down on the table and gave me her full attention as she asked: “and what’s that?” 

“My marriage,” I admitted. 

“Oh,” Bliss said and nodded a little. “Yeah, I’ve actually been meaning to ask you about it, but I wasn’t entirely sure how to-“ 

“You can ask me anything you want, Bliss,” I interrupted. 

“How about you tell me exactly what you were thinking first?” she suggested. “Then I can ask you things afterwards.” 

“Sounds fair,” I agreed. 

“So?” she gently prompted. “What were you thinking about?” 

“I’m thinking that my marriage is over,” I said quietly. “And that it probably has been for a while.” 

“Oh,” Bliss said. 

“And I’m also thinking that everyone will see this as a complete cliché,” I said a bit bitterly. 

“Are you referring to the whole “younger model”-thing?” Bliss asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” I admitted. 

“Do you see it as a cliché?” she asked plainly. 

“No.” I said. I didn’t even have to search my brain to find the answer. To me, there was nothing cliché about this.

“Then to hell with what everyone else thinks,” Bliss said. “What matters is what you think. What you want.”

I shook my head. There had been entirely too much focus on me and my needs. “What do you want?” I asked her. 

“You,” Bliss said and flashed me a little smile. “I’m crazy about you.” 

I sighed a little, because despite the turmoil, that still warmed to hear. 

“You really want someone who’s twenty years older than you?” I asked. 

“Age,” Bliss scoffed. “We’re both adults, Ella. To me, it’s no big deal. I’ve always been attracted to maturity. I dated a woman who was thirty five when I was twenty. Well, in the end she did fuck me up pretty badly, but her age was never the problem.” Bliss laughed a little. 

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll end up doing the same?” I asked. 

“No,” Bliss said simply. “Obviously, we will hurt each other eventually, I doubt there’s ever been a relationship without any of that, but I doubt it can ever measure up to what she did.” 

“A relationship?” I echoed. 

“What?” Bliss’ eyebrows knitted together. 

“You said a relationship,” I said quietly. 

“I did,” Bliss confirmed and smiled a little. “I thought that my intentions were pretty obvious when I said that I wanted you.” 

Her words filled my chest with warmth, and I so dearly wished that it could have been that simple. 

“What are you thinking now?” Bliss asked gently as she stepped closer to me and rested her hands on my hips. 

“I’m thinking that while I would have liked to stay here with you for a few decades, but...” I chuckled meekly. “I know I can’t because I have things I need to fix. Things that I have to say.” 

Bliss nodded a little. 

“I don’t know exactly what’s gonna happen when I say those things,” I said slowly. “But I do know that I don’t want you in the middle of it all. I cherish you far too much for that.” 

“I’m a big girl, Ella,” Bliss pointed out. 

But I shook my head. “I want to protect you. Please let me.” 

“So, you’re basically saying that we shouldn’t see each other while you...” 

“While I tell my husband everything.” 

“I think I understand that,” Bliss said and tightened her grip on my hips a little. “I mean, I’m not gonna pretend that it won’t be tough, but...” 

“It will,” I quickly agreed. “And I don’t know how long it’ll take before things will settle down. I don’t even know where I’ll be. But when I do know...” I paused and shook my head. “Wait for me is just another cliché, isn’t it?” 

“Sort of,” Bliss said. But she smiled all the same. 

“Then I won’t say it,” I decided. “Instead I’ll say that I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not gonna ask you to make any promises to me.” 

“Alright,” Bliss said and leaned closer, so she was talking into the crook of my neck. “Then I’ll say that I won’t promise you to be on the look out for you no matter what.” 

I laughed croakily. “We’re very good at not making any promises to each other, aren’t we?” 

“We are. Now hug me, damn it,” Bliss mumbled. 

I quickly did that, and as her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, my heart was already aching when I thought of my upcoming departure. Soon I would have to leave this beautiful girl, and not knowing   
how long it would be, before I saw her again, made invisible bonds wrap too tightly around my chest.

“But not today, right?” Bliss muttered into the crook of my neck. 

I quickly considered it. Would it be a sensible thing to leave today? Yes, probably. Did I want to leave today? No. Definitely not. Did I have to leave today? Well, technically... 

“No,” I said. “Not today.” I knew that I couldn’t bear to leave today. Not when I knew that I had to part with her soon. 

Bliss visibly relaxed in my arms at that, and lifting her head, she suggested: “we could go back down the basement? I could teach you some more pottery?” 

I laughed at that suggestion. “I don’t think you taught me any pottery last night.” 

“Exactly. All the more reason to give it another try.” 

I laughed again. “I’ve just showered and dressed.” 

“So we’ll have another shower. And I would be happy to help you dress again afterwards.” 

“You’re terrible,” I said, my actions not matching my words as I gently stroked her back. 

“Yep. That’s why you like me,” she murmured and then she was kissing my neck lightly. 

I shivered slightly at that. I was reacting to her so quickly it was almost embarrassing. 

Bliss chuckled as she lifted her head to look at me. “But first breakfast, yeah?”

“Breakfast sounds nice,” I agreed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t serve you a full English one, but...” 

“That’s completely fine,” I quickly assured her and chuckled. “I don’t need anything special.” 

“Yes you do,” Bliss scoffed. “You deserve something very special.” 

“Are we still talking about breakfast?” I quietly inquired as I gently loosened my grip on her. 

“No,” Bliss said plainly and opened the fridge once more. 

I tried to ignore the meaning behind the “something very special”-comment. As I tried to ignore the fact that I couldn’t just stay here.

Three days. 

That was how long I stayed at her place, and during those two days, I felt like I was getting a glimpse of how things could be. How my life could be. I had woken up and seen Bliss as the first thing. Her yellow wall and her sleepy smile had been the two first things to greet me. She had even kissed me good morning. We had breakfast together, and afterwards, her eyes would flicker to the basement door. 

On the first morning, she had been apologetic about it, but I had brushed her apology aside and strongly advised her to head down to the basement if that was what she wanted to do. She confirmed that yes, that was what she wanted to do. But only if I came with her. 

I had done just that. Bliss had magically conjured a sheet of paper and a few pencils. She didn’t want me to get bored, she said. I had claimed that I was never bored in her company, but I had still brought the pencils and papers with me whenever she disappeared into the basement. 

I had never thought that “hanging out” in a basement could be cozy, but naturally, I quickly realized that I had been wrong. “Hanging out” in a basement was very cozy. While Bliss worked on her pottery, I sketched, and there never was a silent moment between us. Bliss talked about how she had always wanted to open her own little pottery store, and I found out that she had in fact already sold some of her work. Then she had asked me more about my little “home studio”, and whether I was ever planning on “becoming an artist who sold lots of paintings”. I had laughed and told her that no, I wasn’t planning on ever becoming an artist. I imagined it would be very difficult to live off that. If anything, I could imagine to finally put my bachelor’s in arts to good use. I could get a job, like I’ve had before I got pregnant with Lucas. 

The nights I spend with Bliss were different. All conversation ended at night. Neither of us could concentrate on keeping up a conversation, and instead the nights were reserved for soft caresses and quiet exclamations. 

At night, I forgot everything around me. I forgot that I couldn’t stay here. I forgot about the chaos that was waiting ahead. I forgot my guilt about how I was about to turn my son’s world upside down. 

At night, nothing mattered. Except for she and I.

But once the three days were up, it was time to return to reality. There was no way around it. I had to go home and take care of things that should have been taken care off long ago. 

Both Bliss and I were upset when I gathered my things and shrugged my coat on. She squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. We didn’t say goodbye. We were both determined that this wasn’t a goodbye. But we did kiss each other again and again before I left. Perhaps that only made the separation more painful, but neither of us cared about that. 

Returning home to my house in Shelburne felt strange. And coming back to the quiet, empty place would probably have depressed me, if it hadn’t been for the fact that I knew that Delia was on her way. 

She had phoned two days ago like we had agreed, and I had truthfully told her that I was still at Bliss’ place. Delia had understood and then asked me when I would be back. She would be stopping by, she said. It hadn’t been up for discussion, but I hadn’t minded. I was looking forward to seeing Delia in person. 

After having brought my impromptu weekend bag upstairs and having stuffed the used clothing into the washing machine, I went downstairs and had foolish almost started to make coffee until I reminded myself that Delia was pregnant and therefore couldn’t have coffee. I had to be more distracted than what I first assumed. 

I quickly decided to make tea instead. 

I had only been home for about an hour when I heard the telltale sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. I abandoned the book I had been trying (and failing) to read and rose from the sofa to walk into the kitchen and look out of the window just in time to see Delia get out of the car. Her long red hair was billowing behind her, and her footsteps were determined as she walked through the gravel. It didn’t take long before I both saw and heard her knock on the door. Moments later I heard her voice in the hallway. Delia had never been one for waiting to be let in.

“Hello? Ella?”

“In the kitchen,” I called back. 

It didn’t take long before Delia came into the kitchen, shaking her head and pushing her hair away from her face. “God, what a wind! It’s unbearable! And I swear, I’ve been smelling vinegar all morning.”

I laughed as I gave my best friend a hug. “It’s good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you too. I hope you don’t have any vinegar here,” she quipped as she returned the hug. 

“Don’t worry. There’s no vinegar here. Just tea. I’ve made some if you...” 

“Tea sounds good,” Delia nodded. “Maybe that’ll be enough to finally beat that morning sickness.” 

“Let’s hope so,” I said as I poured two cups of tea. “Shall we head into the sitting room? You’ll sit more comfortably there.” 

“Oh god, don’t,” Delia half-groaned as she snatched the cup of tea from me. “It’s bad enough that Tom fusses over me all the time.” 

“People tend to do that when a woman is pregnant,” I teased as we headed into the sitting room. 

Once we were seated on the sofa, and even before Delia had taken her first sip of tea, she asked: “so? What’s going on?”

“I’m gay,” I said quietly, just to make sure that I was still able to say it out loud. I was, and the word didn’t sound foreign anymore. 

“Yes, I know,” Delia said and rolled her eyes. “You’ve already told me.” 

“I know I’ve told you, but I’m practicing on saying it out loud,” I mumbled and took a sip of my tea. I’m gay. It was getting easier to think it too.

Delia took a sip of her own tea, and I wrapped my fingers around my cup as I asked: 

“How are you feeling? Is the morning sickness very bad?” 

“Yes, but we can talk more about that after you’ve told me everything,” she half-teased.

I took another sip of my tea, drew a strand of hair behind my ear. Then I wetted my lips slightly and took a deep breath before saying: “I’m going to leave Stephen.”

Delia sat her teacup down and put her hand lightly over mine. 

“My marriage is over,” I said quietly. “And I think that it might have been for a while, but... I’m so scared.” 

Delia squeezed my hand slightly. “Of course you are.” 

“I mean, this...” I nodded towards the sitting room. “Has been my home for the past thirteen years. Stephen has been my husband for twenty one. I’ve never known of anything else, and I don’t know how   
to...” 

“It’ll be a different life,” Delia agreed. “And it’ll definitely be scary at first, but don’t you think it’ll be better in the end? You get to live as your authentic self. You get to live like you want too.” 

I smiled a little. Yes, of course it would be better, but right now I was far too focused on the scary parts of it. The parts that had my heart hammer in my chest and my palms going sweaty. 

“You have no idea how proud I am of you, Ella,” Delia said, flashing me that smile that normally were so contagious. But not today. 

“I’m going to break up my family,” I whispered.

She squeezed my hand again. “Might if I speak frankly?” 

“Have I ever been able to stop you from doing that?” 

Delia didn’t laugh. Instead she was quite serious as she said: “forgive me for asking, but when’s the last time you’ve been a family? Stephen is always in Boston. Hasn’t it been just you and Lucas for a while now?” 

I nodded. “But what about him? What if he-“ 

“Ella, your happiness matters too,” Delia interrupted, gently but firmly. 

“I know it does,” I nodded. 

“Have you talked to Bliss about all this?” Delia asked. 

“Some.” 

“And what is she saying?” 

“That she’ll wait for me,” I said, slightly disbelieving. 

“And isn’t that a good thing?” Delia asked and frowned at the expression on my face.

“I don’t know how ugly things will get,” I said quietly. “But I do know that I don’t want her in the middle of it.” 

“Ella, that’s just-“ 

“We ended up making some very insincere promises to each other,” I interrupted and laughed slightly. “I promised her that I wouldn’t ask her to wait for me, and she promised me that she wouldn’t be on the lookout for me.” 

Now Delia was smiling too. “And do either of you count on actually keeping those promises?” 

“No,” I said and chuckled. “Probably not.” 

She squeezed my hand again. 

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. I don’t know where this will leave me. Physically and mentally.” 

Delia gave my hand another squeeze. “The physical part is easily taken care of. You are more than welcome to come and stay with Tom and I.” 

“No, I can’t do that,” I said immediately and shook my head. “You have a baby on the way, Delia. I don’t want to impose-“ 

“Oh, be quiet,” Delia interrupted. “You’re my best friend, Ella. If I shouldn’t offer you a place to stay...” she shook her head slightly. “Anyway, the baby won’t be banished to the guestroom, so you don’t   
have to worry. And stop feeling like you’re imposing. You’re not.” 

“We’ll see,” I said. “It might not even be necessary. Perhaps I’ll go somewhere. I don’t know where, but maybe it would be good for me. Going away for a while.” 

“On your own?” Delia asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“We’ll see,” I repeated and now I was smiling just a little. I had a pretty good idea about whom I would ask to go with me, should I follow through with my plans and really take a trip at some point.

Delia grinned. “I want to meet her. I want to formally meet the girl you’ve fallen in love with.” 

I laughed. “I think you’ll like her. She’s very outgoing. Very spunky. Very fond of yellow. And ceramic. She wants to be a potter, can you believe it?” 

“Does she indeed? So she’s creative, like you.” 

“Yes.” 

“I hope I’ll get the chance to meet her soon,” Delia smiled. “And see what all the fuss is about.” 

I jokingly whapped her arm. “Not funny.” 

“A bit funny,” Delia teased. 

Perhaps it was. I certainly ended up laughing while I was shaking my head at the same time. Delia always knew exactly what to say to make me less anxious. 

“You’re a good friend,” I said as I squeezed her hand again. 

“Yes. I am,” Delia stated plainly and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you the one growing sentimental when I’m the one who’s pregnant?” 

“I don’t know,” I chuckled. “It seems very unfair.” 

“Yes, perhaps I should cry a bit just to shift the balance,” Delia teased. “I’ll have you know that I cry a lot these days.” 

I chuckled again. I could scarcely imagine that. Delia had never been “emotional”. 

“It’s true,” Delia said and rolled her eyes. “Yesterday I cried because Tom had bought the wrong ketchup. It took him twenty minutes to comfort me.”

I spluttered.

“It was all very humiliating,” Delia said as she reached for her teacup. 

“I can imagine so.” I reached out and took my own teacup. 

“Cheers,” Delia said and clinked her teacup with mine. 

“Cheers,” I said and smiled. 

“To important conversations,” Delia said and took a sip of her tea. 

“And the importance of the right ketchup,” I added. 

She scowled at me, and I chuckled. I felt a little better now. I was still nervous, of course I was, but right now, it felt as though everything perhaps would be alright. Maybe.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

I didn’t go to the art lesson that Tuesday. Once again, I lied to Griselda Abbott and told her that I had caught a cold. I couldn’t handle going to the art lesson and lying to everyone there while I was lying to my family as well. One thing at the time. I had informed Bliss that I wouldn’t be coming for that lesson, and while she was upset, she completely understood why. Telling my family the truth ranked higher than going to the art lesson. 

I didn’t know how I got through that week. 

Staying away from Bliss was agonizing. I couldn’t sleep at night. Because I missed her, but also because I was so scared of the things I had to say when Stephen returned home. I would lie awake for hours and think about. My thoughts would spiral out of control, and I ended up nauseated because of it. Once or twice during that week, I feared that I had to throw up, and the thought that send me into the bathroom where I had retched several times. But nothing had happened. Perhaps I was just vomiting my thoughts. 

But I didn’t just settle for lying awake and making trips to the bathroom. Often, I ended up getting out of bed and walking up and down the bedroom floor. Sleeping was impossible. My head was too packed with thoughts, and most of them were catastrophic. 

And of course the sleepless nights left their mark. Come morning, I would inspect my face and find dark circles and pale skin. Even my hair looked completely limp, and I wondered what had happened to that glowing woman I had seen in the mirror not too long ago. 

God, I was doing this. I was actually doing this. I was telling my husband the truth. More often than not, I would have to go through all the events in my mind. Had it really happened? All of it? Had I really fallen for a woman?

Yes. Yes, I had. And this was really happening. 

Delia had called every day. We’d had plenty of contact before, but now it had suddenly increased with two hundredth percent. She even offered to come and stay with me, so I didn’t have to be alone the rest week. I had thanked her but insisted that I was fine. Perhaps I wasn’t, but I was stubborn. I had to cope with being alone for a week. That wasn’t even the hardest part. No, the hardest part was still to   
come. 

The thought of that made the breath catch in my throat. 

And so many times I had been on the verge on calling Bliss. I missed hearing her voice to a point where I almost felt crazy. I kept thinking about what she was doing. Was she in her basement, forming another pot of clay? My cheeks tinted pink when I thought of Bliss’ hands. What they were capable of and how she had touched me. So softly, so gently. 

And then I had felt guilty. Because it was definitely selfish of me to think about my desire when I was on the verge of ruining my son’s life. 

That guilt had kept me awake at night too. 

In hindsight, it wasn’t just one thing that kept me awake during the night. It was everything, and it was everything at once. My head was a complete mess. 

I tried everything. I tried sketching, I tried watching television. I even tried writing my thoughts down, but nothing worked. My thoughts were still going in circles. 

I knew what would work. Seeing Bliss. She was the cure. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t see her now. Not when everything was a mess. That made me feel guilty too, because that hadn’t stopped me before, had it? It was mess that had brought me to Bliss in the first place. 

But I refused to give in to temptation. I refused to see Bliss now when things were like this. Perhaps I had been weak before, but for Bliss’ sake I couldn’t allow myself this time. I wanted things to happen the right way. She deserved that. I deserved that.

And I was damn well gonna keep the promise I had made to myself.

Yes, the nights were tough. 

The night before Lucas was due to return home from his school trip, I didn’t sleep either. Instead I ended up sitting completely curled up in one of the armchairs in the sitting room. I stared out of the window but didn’t see anything. Instead my mind was once again swimming with those disastrous thoughts. 

What if Lucas would start to resent me? What if he never would accept it? He had stood up for Trevor when that boy had started calling him homophobic slur but standing up for your friend was one thing. 

Learning that your mother was gay was something entirely different. 

What if my own son starts hating me because of what and who I am?

My palms started to sweat again.

Things weren’t much better the following morning, but there was nothing I could do about that. I couldn’t sleep an extra hour or two. No, I had to get out of bed, make myself look presentable and then   
await my sons return from camp. 

I more or less tumbled out of bed and then proceeded to stumble into the bathroom. Completely groggy due to lack of sleep, I shed my clothes and then stepped into the shower. The water was cold, in many ways refreshing, but in many ways a punishment too. This was what I got for not sleeping when I was supposed to. An ice cold shower. 

I washed my hair twice and then added just a drop of oil to it. Just to make it look a bit shinier. I couldn’t look like something that had just emerged from under a rock.

I knew that I was being obsessive as I scrutinized every inch of my closet to find something suitable to wear. I had always been like this. The bigger the crisis, the more perfect my clothes had to look. 

I ended up choosing a cream colored V-neck sweater, a pair of green slacks, and then I tied a green scarf around my neck. My hair was brushed several times, tied back, pulled into a bun before I decided to let it hang loose. I already had a headache and tying my hair back probably wouldn’t help.

Next was makeup, and I cursed as I saw the finished result. I had overdone it. Sighing, I wiped it off and started over. The next attempt was a bit better. Less over the top. I looked more like myself. 

But I certainly didn’t feel myself. While the woman looking back at me in the mirror looked like me, I could feel how I had completely changed on the inside, and it almost frightened me.

I grabbed the hairbrush and started to brush my hair again. My movements were quick, it tugged at my hair, but I didn’t care. Suddenly, fixing my hair was the most important thing in the world.

With that taken care of, I couldn’t think of any more reasons to not go downstairs. I sat the hairbrush down and left the bathroom.

Feeling every bit unenthusiastic, I opened the fridge and took a peek inside. I was absolutely not hungry, but I couldn’t very well starve myself. I hadn’t eaten properly during the past week, and I reckoned that if I kept that up. I would most likely end up passing out in the middle of it all.

So I ended up shoving two pieces of bread into the toaster. Not that I wanted to eat them, but I didn’t really give myself a choice in the matter. Of course I had to eat something for breakfast. I had basically been living of coffee and tea for the past week, but now that Lucas was coming home, I had to pull myself together. 

While the toaster did its job, I made myself a cup of tea, and while the kettle boiled, I eyed my phone lying on the table. Don’t call her, don’t call her, don’t call her.

I drummed my fingers on the table as I waited for the two pieces of bread to pop out of the toaster. There was only one thing I wanted to do as much as I wanted to call her. I wanted to smoke a cigarette. 

Or two.

But I couldn’t do that either.

I sighed deeply as I lifted my head and looked out of the window. The sky was grey, and it was raining once again. Summer was undeniably over, and autumn was hastily approaching. It didn’t look like I would be able to go for my usual run today. That thought only depressed me further. Perhaps I should head down to the gym instead. I had been there a couple of times, but I had never been particularly serious about it. Perhaps it was time to change that. 

The two pieces of bread popped out of the toaster, and while I spread butter onto them, I could feel in the very pit of my stomach, how little I wanted to go to the gym today. To be honest, I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted to sit around and drive myself insane with my catastrophic thoughts. 

The kettle started whistling, and I quickly cut the noise short and poured the boiling water into my teacup. Then I grabbed one of the tea bag from the cupboard. Perhaps a bit of Earl Grey tea would help. 

A cup of tea had been my go-to solution in difficult situations for years now, but I had an inkling that the familiar routine wouldn’t work today. Nothing was gonna work today.

I straightened my posture a little as I brought the teacup of to my lips and took a sip. I was not gonna sit around today. I was not gonna allow myself to wallow. No. After breakfast, I would pack my training clothes and shoes and then head down to the gym. And once I got home, I would treat myself to a bubble bath. I would take my time. Perhaps bring my kindle or a book with me. Then I would dress in something comfortable, maybe sketch for a little while, and then Lucas would come home. And when he did, I would be completely in control over my emotions. I wouldn’t let him know that there was something wrong. I would ask him to tell me about the camping trip, and I would listen concentrated. Perhaps I would even make a tart. He would love that.

I pursed my lips. Did baking a pie categorize as guilty conscience? Was that my way of making up for what I was about to do?

Maybe. I took a bite of my toast and frowned as that sharp, cold fear reared its ugly head again. In control of my emotions. I snorted quietly. Not really. I was scared to death. My heart started hammering, and I spun around and grabbed my phone. My fingers trembled some as I texted Delia and asked if she was up for a chat. 

It didn’t even take a minute before my phone started ringing.

And hearing her voice helped enormously. She was still Delia, witty, sarcastic Delia. No matter what, she would still act like she always had done, and that was a relief.

I did exactly what I had planned. 

I went to the gym and “punished” myself for two hours. Both on the exercise bike and on the treadmill. I even tried lifting weights. It wasn’t very successful, my arms were shaking after only one lift, but it was still worth it. 

When I arrived back home, I went into the bathroom and filled the bathtub. I added a bit of bathing salt, and once the tub was filled with water and bubbles, I took off my clothes and lowered myself into the bath. The water was perfect. Nice and warm. Exactly how I liked it. I leaned back and did my best to relax and enjoy my bath.

I only succeeded partially. Like I had planned, I had indeed brought my kindle with me, but despite the effort, my thoughts still managed to wander before I got the chance to stop them. Once I realized that I was thinking again, I scoffed, shook my head and then leaned back and closed my eyes once more, doing my utmost to think of nothing. 

After my bath, I went into the bedroom and re-dressed. No slacks and neat blouses this time. I chose my most comfortable pair of yoga pants and a blue t-shirt I often wore when I wasn’t going out. If I had to convince my son that I was fine, I had to look like I was fine too. 

Once my clothes and hair had ben taken care off, I went downstairs with my phone in hand and googled pie recipes. I squinted slightly behind my glasses as I scrolled through the many possibilities. After very throughout consideration, I chose banana cream pie. Lucas loved banana pie.

But baking in silence was definitely out of the question. I would only end up thinking if there wasn’t some sort of distraction in the background. So once again, I grabbed my phone to search for something appropriate. I wasn’t really in the mood for songs with lyrics, so I ended up searching for instrumental music on YouTube, and soon I found something. A four hour long playlist called “French Café music”. I switched the music on and turned the volume up. It actually wasn’t half bad. 

Settling with that, I began the task at hand. I mixed sugar, flour and salt in a saucepan and then gradually added the milk while I gently stirred the mixture. While I cooked it over medium heat and stirred,   
I began thinking. Not about things I shouldn’t be thinking off, but it was very easy to start thinking about Paris when the music played in the background. 

Perhaps that was an idea. If I really chose to go somewhere, the destination would definitely be Paris. I couldn’t count the times I had brought up the destination to Stephen, but something had always happened. There had always been some sort of reason why we couldn’t go. 

I stopped stirring the pie mixture for a moment. Going alone.... No. No, I wasn’t gonna do that. I couldn’t go to Paris alone. Paris was not a destination you travelled to on your own. 

I began stirring once more. Perhaps I didn’t have to go alone. Perhaps I could ask someone if she wanted to go with me. I pursed my lips slightly as I considered what her answer would be. I suddenly felt quite restless. Was it the urge to start a new life that made me feel like this? 

I didn’t find the answer. Instead I added egg yolk to the mixture, resumed my stirring while it cooked for two more minutes. Then I removed the mixture from the stove and added butter and vanilla. My arm was starting to cramp slightly as I resumed the stirring, but I ignored it and soldiered on until the mixture had a smooth consistent. Next was slicing bananas and adding them to the mixture. Now was not the time for thinking about the future. Now was the time for baking. Soon I could pop the pie into the oven, and once the oven lid was closed, I switched the volume on the music up a notch while swaying my hips lightly to the music. Perhaps it was a bit silly, but I reminded myself that there was no one around to see me. I could act silly if I wanted to. 

As I foolishly moved to the music, I tried to remember the last time I had been on holiday. Hadn’t Stephen and I been in New York a few years ago? Yes, we had. I could remember the hotel we had stayed on. And I could remember how I had walked the streets of New York alone. Stephen had been working, so it had been more of a business trip than anything else, really. I hadn’t seen much of my husband during the time in New York.

I rephrased the question I was asking myself. When was the last time I had been on holiday with someone? I frowned, tried to remember. 

But I couldn’t. 

I shook my head. Gosh, had it really been that long? So long I couldn’t remember? It seemed impossible. I shook my head and checked on the tart in the oven. The baking was progressing nicely, and the tart was getting a lovely golden brown color. The smell of banana and vanilla was hanging in the air, but I reminded myself that I hadn’t had any lunch yet, and before that, there would be no tart. 

I decided that I could just as well make myself some lunch while I was waiting for the tart to be finished. I opened the fridge and prepared a quick lunch for myself. Then I settled down at the kitchen table and enjoyed my lunch while the music played softly in the background. This was actually quite a nice way to have lunch. Perhaps I should listen to music more often. It certainly quelled whatever loneliness   
I might have battled.

I had finished my lunch and was just in the process of checking on the tart when I heard the front door open. Shoes being kicked off, and then the telltale thud of a backpack being dumped in the hallway.   
A bit of shuffling around as a coat was being discarded off and left on the coat rack. 

Approximatively ten seconds later, Lucas came shuffling into the kitchen. His blonde hair was wet from the rain, and he looked a bit grumpy. But then he sniffed into the air once, and a smile blossomed on his lips. 

“That smells good,” he said. 

“I hope it is,” I said and flashed him a smile in return. “Welcome home, honey. It’s good to have you back. The place has been so quiet without you.” 

He snickered as he ran a finger through his wet hair. “Yeah, I bet you’ve missed me like crazy.” 

“Of course I have,” I stated firmly. 

He scoffed again. “You’ve had so much quiet time to draw.” 

“I always miss you when you’re not here, honey,” I said and purposefully ignored his comment. Because I hadn’t drawn very much while he had been away. Instead I had spent forbidden time with Bliss. 

Once again, I was reminded of what I was going to tell my husband and son, and I nervously wetted my lips as I took the now finished tart out of the oven and left it standing on the table to cool off.

“Can I have a piece?” Lucas asked and nodded towards the cake.

“It has to cool off first,” I said automatically. “And you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” 

“No, but-“ 

“Lunch first,” I interrupted with a slight attempt at chuckling. “You know the rules.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he said and mock sneered. 

I laughed at that. It was good to have him back home. I had missed him.

“Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about the school trip?” I suggested as I tugged my oven gloves off. 

To my delight and slight surprise, he actually sat down. And while I made him lunch, he told me about his school trip and all the shenanigans he and his friends had been up too. Some of it made me   
laugh, and some of it made me shake my head and click my tongue is mock dismay. And every time I did, Lucas laughed heartedly. 

“And what about you?” he asked as he pushed his now empty plate away. “What did you do while I was gone?” 

“Oh, you know...” I said and tried to look nonchalant as I shrugged. “Same old, same old.”

“Sounds boring. Can I have some pie now?” he asked impatiently.

I laughed as I served a piece of the tart for both him and me.

The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of my phone ringing. Groggily, I sat up and scrambled to find the damn thing. I rubbed a hand over my face before sliding a finger over the screen on the phone.

“Hello?”

“Ella, my dear.”

Oh. I had been so disorientated I hadn’t even checked the number. “Good morning, Stephen.”

“Good morning. I’ll be in Burlington Airport at five,” he informed me, naturally assuming that I would be there to pick him up.

I briefly considered what he would say if I told him that I couldn’t make it, but I quickly dropped that idea. I had to pick my battles, and this was definitely not the battle I would take with him. Soon I would have to take another kind of battle with him. My stomach churned. 

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. Is Lucas back from the excursion?” Stephen asked. 

“Yes, he came home yesterday.” 

“Good. Then he won’t miss school today.”

“No, he will not,” I said a bit tightly. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world if he had. 

Stephen didn’t pay attention to my tone. “I’ve spoken to Carla Rasmussen.” 

“Oh yes?” I said, still a bit tightly. 

“I didn’t like her tone,” Stephen said. “Something was off about it.” 

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“I think she and her husband are planning something,” Stephen sneered. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why would they do that?” 

“Because, Ella, Benjamin Rasmussen still believes that firing him was the wrong decision,” Stephen said in that unpleasant tone I didn’t like one bit. 

“I see,” I said neutrally and had to bite my tongue not to reveal that I shared the unlucky Mr. Rasmussen’s belief. 

“We have to do something to clear things up before he decides to sue the company anyway,” Stephen said in the other end. 

I purposefully dodged his not too subtle hint. “Why don’t we talk more about that when you get here? I don’t think I’m quite awake yet.” 

“Oh. Of course,” Stephen said. “Yes. We’ll discuss it when I get home.”

“I’ll see you later,” I said. 

“Yes. Sleep well.” 

“Thank you.” I ended the call and noted that neither of us had said “I love you” this time. It seemed very symbolical.

So that afternoon I drove to Burlington Airport. I had asked Lucas to come with me, but he had preferred to stay home. I figured that he was probably tired after the school trip, so I relatively easy let him off the hook.

The car ride to Burlington Airport took twenty minutes, and I didn’t bother switching on the radio as I drove. Instead I wondered how it would feel to see my husband again. How would it make me feel? Would it make me feel guilty? Yes, perhaps. 

I reached a turnabout and navigated the car in the right direction. I didn’t know how I felt. Anxious, definitely, but there was something else too. Something I couldn’t quite put a label on. I felt like I was getting close to the last chapter of a book, and now I was eager to start another story. What was that feeling called? I wasn’t completely sure.

I moved one hand away from the wheel and pushed a strand of hair away from my face. I only glanced at myself for a split second, but I still managed to be startled when I looked at my own eyes. They looked so... different. Like the change within me was visible through my eyes. I shook my head a little as I turned my attention back to the road in front of me. 

As I drove, I considered how and when to break it to my husband. Obviously, I wouldn’t tell him the minute I saw him, of course not. Strange. Through the past week I had been focused on the life changing thing I was going to tell him, but exactly how and when I was going to tell him, wasn’t something I had considered. But perhaps now was the time for that. I would wait until we had a moment of quiet, and then I would ask him to sit down. I would tell him that I had something important to tell him. Something that couldn’t wait. Something I hadn’t been aware of until very recently.

My breath quickened some, and I decided not to think too much of how my husband was gonna react. 

Soon I reached my destination, and I parked the car in the parking lot near the airport. I checked my watch. There was still ten minutes until Stephen’s plane was gonna land. I took the opportunity to take a few calming breaths, and I very firmly told myself that they were in fact helping. I almost believed it. 

I brought a hand up and fixed my hair once more, and then I sighed and rolled my eyes because I realized that I was obsessing over something that wasn’t really worth obsessing over. 

Then I checked my phone. There was a message from Delia. She knew that I was on my way to pick up Stephen, and she just wanted to check in and hear how I was doing. I smiled a little. That was sweet of her. She was so supportive.

I texted her back, telling her that everything was okay. That I was fine. 

At least I thought I was. 

The passengers came streaming into the arrival hall, and it didn’t take me long to spot my husband in the crowd. He was dragging his suitcase behind him, and he looked exactly as tired as I had feared.   
He had been in Los Angeles for four weeks, and I could tell that the many business meetings and conflicts had taken their toll on him.

But nevertheless, he flashed me a little smile when he saw me. Soon he came over to me and he bowed his head to peck my cheeks lightly. One kiss on each cheek. Exactly like he always did. “My dear.” 

“Welcome back,” I said and returned his smile. “Are you ready to head home?” 

“Yes, more than ready,” Stephen said. “It’s been four very difficult weeks.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, and my hope faded slightly. Tonight was definitely not the night to tell him. Once again, I would have to wait.

Stephen grabbed his suitcase a little more firmly as we left the arrival hall. “Did you park close by?” 

“I did,” I confirmed. 

“Good. It’ll probably start rain soon. The weather wasn’t much better in Los Angeles.”

“Did you have time to go out much?” I asked and narrowly avoided colliding with an elderly lady on the way out of the airport.

“No,” Stephen said and scowled slightly at the woman. “I’ve been cooped up in that damned office for three weeks straight.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said and felt a twinge of annoyance. Was it really necessary to be so negative? 

He grumbled something in response and then did that thing with his hand that indicated that he wanted to drive. 

I ignored it and unlocked the car. “Here, I’ll drive,” I said briskly. “You can get the chance to relax a little after the long flight.” 

He didn’t protest. Instead he stuffed his suitcase into the trunk of the car and then climbed onto the passenger’s seat.

“Lucas is looking forward to see you,” I said as I started the car and navigated it out of the parking lot. Just to say something. Lucas had actually asked shockingly few questions regarding his father. “He’s talked a lot about his school trip, I think he’s looking forward to telling you about it, and- Stephen?” 

“Hmm?” Stephen looked up from his phone. “Oh yes. His school trip. Camping trip, was it?” 

“I think they slept in tents.” 

“Tents?” Stephen repeated and wrinkled his nose. “I thought it was a cabin?”

“No-no, they slept in tents,” I said. “I think I might have mentioned it to you the last time we spoke.” 

“Oh yes,” Stephen said and frowned slightly. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine what his teachers thought would be educational about a camping trip.” 

“They’ve been studying nature,” I pointed out. 

Stephen chuckled. “I don’t see why he can’t do that in his free time. I don’t believe that a camping trip will have any influence on his future schoolwork.” 

“Perhaps he can think of it as a well-deserved break,” I dryly suggested. “And I’m sure he’ll remember all the fun he had with his friends on this school trip.”

My tone went above Stephen’s head, and I felt another twinge of annoyance. We had barely spend five minutes together, and we were already having a discussion instead of talking. 

Stephen’s phone rang, and I was willing to bet all my paintbrushes that it was Jack Hamill calling him. Jack Hamill was the man who had taken over Mr. Rasmussen’s work, and while I had nothing against Jack Hamill as such, I did have something against the way Stephen had employed him. I had learned that he had not only interviewed Jack Hamill, but also promised him the job while Mr. Rasmussen was still employed, and I definitely did not approve that. I found it horribly unfair, and it was bordering on backstabbing in my opinion. I fully understood why Mr. Rasmussen had reacted the way he had.   
Anyone with common sense would react like he had. 

Stephen was highly engaged with discussing the latest crisis with Jack Hamill, and as he talked, I zoned out and dreamed myself back to a lazy morning under a yellow wall. I dreamed myself back to warm fingers on my cheek and coffee colored eyes sparkling with mischief. Wild curls tickling my skin, and a warm, soft mouth gently kissing me. I dreamed myself back to clay on my fingers and long arms wrapping around me in a too small shower.

I considered it. Should I feel guilty for thinking about Bliss right now? I side eyed my husband. He was tugging on the knot of his tie to undo it as he barked orders into the phone. We were sitting right next to each other, but it felt like we were millions of miles apart. We could just as well have been two strangers sharing a car. We were both going to the same destination, but it felt like we were living two separate lives. And, in hindsight, we had been doing that for a while.

I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t really feel anything. I looked at Stephen and I felt... Nothing. It was so very odd. Almost surreal. I had expected to feel a myriad of things when I saw him again, and instead there was nothing. A blank space. I clutched the wheel a little tighter. Stephen was still on the phone, and I thought of Bliss once more. Her eyes. The way she looked at me. The way she really saw me. 

I shot Stephen a look and silently wondered whether he had really registered that I was here, or better still whether he had realized that I was not here. 

The rest of that day passed like any other day. It was just like any ordinary day. Except it wasn’t. 

Stephen and I arrived home, and Lucas greeted his father with less interest than what I had anticipated. Just a quick “hey, dad”, and then he turned his attention back to the television screen. I wondered what caused this lack of enthusiasm, and I made a few subtle attempts at making Lucas tell his father about the school trip, but Lucas didn’t seem very keen on sharing. And Stephen didn’t seem very keen on asking. At least not about that. He did however, ask Lucas about school, even managed to throw in a few remarks about that “college in Boston”. 

Lucas’ answer was completely dry. “I don’t want to think about college yet, dad.”

Stephen had not been satisfied with that answer, but he did not press the matter. Perhaps he could still remember the argument we’d had over it. I certainly could. 

It didn’t take long before Stephen announced that he had a few emails he needed to take care of. He disappeared into his office, and I knew exactly what that meant. I wouldn’t see him until dinner was ready. Normally, that would bother me, but today, I only felt relieved. I opened the fridge and debated what to make for dinner tonight. My desire to cook was less than overwhelming, and I briefly considered to just order takeout, but I nixed that idea just as fast. I had already ordered takeout a few times the previous week where I was alone, and it was high time to get back in the healthy routine. I found some bell peppers in the fridge. I could use them for something. 

I had just switched on the oven and was in the process of removing the top of the peppers with a knife, when Lucas appeared by my side. 

“What’s for dinner?” he inquired.

“Stuffed peppers,” I told him. 

He wrinkled his nose slightly. “Okay.”

“We’ll have the rest of the tart for dessert,” I promised him and chuckled slightly when I saw him perk up at that. 

“Better,” he teased. “But obviously, it would be even better if we could skip the peppers and move on to the pie-“

“That’s not gonna happen,” I flatly interrupted him. 

It was his turn to chuckle. “Want me to help you?” 

I paused with the knife in midair. “Are you offering to help me with dinner?”

“Yes, mum,” he grimaced. “I’m offering to help you with dinner. Get over it.” 

“May I ask why?” I inquired as I provided him with a knife so he could help with slicing the peppers. 

He shrugged. “Maybe one week of camping have given me newfound respect for the modern kitchen.” 

I laughed heartedly at that and even went as far as ruffling his hair.

The rest of the evening went by as it always did. Stephen, Lucas and I sat down and had dinner together, and I noticed how little we spoke during the dinner. Or, Lucas spoke, and Stephen and I answered him, but Stephen and I? We didn’t talk at all. Had it really been like this for a long time? And why hadn’t I noticed it before? Had I really been so damn busy denying it?

The answer was sad. Yes. Yes, I had.

Once the stuffed peppers were eaten, I kept my promise to Lucas and did indeed serve the rest of the tart for dessert. Lucas was delighted while Stephen was surprised. 

“Did you make this?” he asked confused. 

“Yes,” I said lightly. 

“You don’t usually bake,” he said even more confused. 

“There are so many things I don’t usually do,” I said. The words just slipped out of me before I could do anything to stop it. 

“It’s a good pie,” Lucas interjected. “Almost as good as the one that girl gave us.” 

“What girl?” Stephen asked distractedly, patting his pockets to find his phone. 

“That girl mum gave a lift once. The one she met at the art class,” Lucas said. “She had a funny name, didn’t she? Was it Tiff or something?” 

Stephen’s phone started buzzing. 

“How big a piece do you want?” I quickly asked Lucas, desperately trying to drag him away from the dangerous subject. 

“A large one,” Lucas teased. 

He didn’t get a large one. If he had his way, he would eat half of the tart. I also cut a piece for Stephen. He was looking at his phone again, but for once it didn’t bother me. I was far too busy trying to breathe normally. 

Was it Tiff or something?

The piece of tart I had just stuffed into my mouth didn’t taste of anything. No. Bliss. Her name is Bliss. How could anyone ever forget her name? 

I swallowed the tasteless piece of tart and then mechanically scooped another piece up on my fork. Once again, my mind began to drift, and everything ached in me as I thought of how much I missed her. 

Suddenly, I had to fight the urge to leap from my seat, rush into the car and drive straight over to her. And stay there. It just seemed so wrong that I was sitting here instead of being with her. 

“This is good pie,” Stephen said, so surprised I could only feel wounded. 

“I’m happy to hear you enjoy it,” I said stiffly and scarfed another piece into my mouth.

Once again, he didn’t pay attention to my tone, but Lucas did, and he frowned slightly. I quickly flashed him a smile to make up for it.

I really struggled to act normal, and I was almost relieved when Lucas announced that he would be going to bed. That meant it would be acceptable for me to go to bed too. 

But Stephen beat me to it. It had been less than an hour after Lucas had gone upstairs that he announced that he was tired after the journey and would go to bed earlier than usual. 

Once he had gone upstairs, I switched the television on. The action flickered across the screen, but I didn’t really see it. I couldn’t concentrate on what was going on. Couldn’t even figure out whether it was romance or action. 

After twenty minutes, I gave up and left the sitting room. Staying down here was pointless.

I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Removed my makeup. Combed my hair and then did my usual bathroom stuff. Washed my hands. Then I tied my hair back in a low ponytail so it wouldn’t bother me. I removed the necklace I had been wearing today. I sighed as I looked at my reflection. I looked tired. And not just tired-tired. No, I looked mentally exhausted. Drained. The sight was nothing but depressing, so I quickly turned my back on my reflection and left the bathroom. 

I padded down the hallway and took a quick peek into Lucas’ room. He was already fast asleep. I smiled a little. He was clearly still tired after the camping trip, poor thing. It was good thing tomorrow was Saturday.

Then I went into the bedroom, and I had only just closed the door when I realized that Stephen wasn’t asleep. Quite the contrary. He was awake and sitting up in bed, looking at me.

Looking at me. My breath hitched in my throat. I knew that look. I could recognize it everywhere. 

I licked my lips, tried to sound completely normal as I said: “I thought you were asleep.” 

“No, not yet.” 

“Oh,” I said plainly and then turned my back on him as I began undressing. I was quick as I discarded of my clothes. His staring made me uncomfortable. Trying not to breathe shallowly, I unhooked my bra and then quickly snatched the first long t-shirt I found in the closet. 

“Come here.” 

I carefully put the t-shirt on and smoothened the fabric over my thighs. Then I turned around and walked over to him. 

He put his hands on my hips, drew me closer and then his hand wandered down my front. His fingers reached the bottom of my t-shirt, and I knew that it would only be a matter of time before he would tug the material up to bare my body. The thought of that send a surge of panic through my body. I put my hand over his just as he was beginning to lift my t-shirt. 

He shot me a look of confusion. 

“Not tonight,” I said and smoothened the t-shirt over my stomach again. 

“It’s been so long since we last-“ 

“I’m on my period,” I interrupted. 

“Oh,” he said, loosening his grip on my hips. “I understand.” 

Relief washed over me as he removed his hands from my body. I had never used that as an excuse before, and I wasn’t completely sure what had come over me, but I did know that I couldn’t just have said that I wasn’t in the mood. That would only have made him ask questions, and right now was not the time for that.

I slipped into bed. Stephen promptly rolled onto his side, switched off the light on his bedside table and muttered a quick “goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” I echoed, feeling completely relieved that he didn’t think of asking me to do anything else for him. I knew for sure that I wouldn’t have been able to go through with that. 

I rolled onto my back while I waited for sleep to claim me. I really needed to rest.

*********************

The next morning didn’t start out very good. Even before I had woken up, Stephen had retired to his office, and after Lucas had had his breakfast and had gone over to Trevor’s place to hang out, I found out that Mr. Rasmussen had called Stephen early this morning. Now there was a very genuine crisis. Mr. Rasmussen claimed that he had “proof” that Stephen had forged those numbers, and unless Stephen paid him a neat sum of money, Mr. Rasmussen would go public with his “proof”.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon, I had to listen to Stephen’s raised voice coming from the office. He was constantly on the phone with several of his employees. Jack Hamill being one of them, and the way Stephen shouted at the poor man didn’t sound very promising. Perhaps Jack Hamill would be next in line to lose his job. 

It was driving me crazy. It felt like there was some sort of war going on, and it was impossible for me to think clearly. 

Lucas wisely stayed away, and I dryly thought to myself that this wasn’t so different from when Stephen was in Los Angeles. I didn’t see him for lunch, and by dinner time, he didn’t show up either. I ended up eating what was left of the stuffed peppers alone. Followed by a large piece of tart. I felt as though I had deserved that. 

I was in the middle of rinsing the dirty dishes when Stephen made a surprise appearance in the kitchen. 

“There’s bread and cheese in the fridge if you’re hungry,” I said. “I ate the last of the peppers.” 

He didn’t listen to that and said instead: “the nerve of that man! I should have fired him long ago.” 

“What is it now?” I asked tiredly. 

Stephen squinted as he ran a hand through his hair. “Didn’t you listen this morning? He’s claiming to have evidence, Ella. He still thinks that I forged those numbers!”

“And did you?” it bursted out of me. 

Stephen completely stopped in his tracks. “Did I what?”

“Did you forge those numbers?” I asked plainly as I wiped another plate. 

“Of course I didn’t!” Stephen hissed. “Rasmussen is just spreading lies because he’s bitter about being too old to work!” 

“Right.” 

My lack agreement did not go above his head. He squinted again, frowned. “What do you mean “right”? What on earth is the matter with you, Ella?” 

“I-“ 

“He won’t get very far with those lies,” Stephen continued, completely overhearing my attempt at saying something. “I’ll make sure of that.” He found his phone and began texting as he spoke: “I’ve asked Jack Hamill and Peter Smith to come over here tonight so we can discuss what to do. They’ll probably be staying for dinner. I know I should have discussed it with you before I invited them, Ella, but I’m sure you can understand that this is an emergency situation-“ 

“I can’t do this,” I said as I unceremoniously dumped the last plate into the bassinet in the sink. I could suddenly see it happening before my eyes. How the next twenty years of my life could look like if I didn’t do something. I’ve had enough of dinners and complains and... I’ve just had enough. This was the last straw for me. I couldn’t keep up the façade a minute later. Not even if I tried. And I was tired of trying. I was tired of pretending to be something that I wasn’t. I was tired of feeling tired and dreaming of something that was within reach but still seemed so far away, and the distance grew bigger and bigger with each passing moment. My heart hammered against my ribs.

He finally stopped ranting and looked at me. “It’s just a dinner, Ella. It doesn’t have to be anything special, but if you insist, I can meet them at a restaurant instead to-“ 

“I’m not talking about the dinner, Stephen! I’m talking about us!” I exclaimed. 

The phone was slid back into his pocket, and his forehead was wrinkled in confusion. “What on earth do you mean, Ella?”

“I cannot do this anymore,” I said. My hands were trembling as I wiped them on the dishtowel. “It’s not... It’s not working anymore.” 

“What isn’t working anymore?” 

“Our marriage,” I said, and my fingers gripped the plate tightly. 

Stephen went quiet for a while, and then shook his head slightly. “Ella, what exactly is it that you’re trying to-“

“I’m gay!”


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

My jaw snapped shut with a click, and my heart fluttered in my chest. For a moment I couldn’t quite believe what I had just said. This was not how I had planned on saying it. What happened to the sensible plan I made? This is the completely wrong way! But I couldn’t very well take back the words I had just blurted out. I looked down at my dripping hands. I wasn’t completely sure when I had dropped the plate into the bassinet in the sink. It felt as though time was standing still, and the only thing I could hear was my own rapid breathing. Feeling like I was in some sort of trance, I lifted the plate, wiped it on the dishtowel and opened the cupboard to put it back where it belonged. Then I wiped my hands on the dishtowel and unplugged the sink to let the water out. The water made a bubbly sound as it went down the drain, and the sound filled my ears completely. I watched mesmerized as the pull from the drain created a bubble that bursted seconds later. It was astonishing, really. How fast a bubble could burst.

“What did you say?”

Stephen’s voice was loud, disbelieving, and I didn’t even have to turn around and look to know that his hands had wandered up to tug at the knot in his tie. 

“You heard me.” my voice was quiet, but not small, I didn’t sound insecure. Just calm.

The drain made another bubbly sound, and I quickly plugged the sink once more. Perhaps the drain needed fixing. Or perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps there was something beautiful about seeing the bubbles forming and then bursting. 

I folded the dishtowel and then stuffed it aside in the nearby drawer. The sink had stopped bubbling, and the only sound left to hear was my breathing. It wasn’t rapid anymore. In fact it was almost calm. 

How odd. 

“Have you been drinking?” 

Now he just sounded confused, and it occurred to me, that this wasn’t a conversation we should be having when I was turned away from him. I turned around and faced him. My husband of twenty one years. His eyebrows were knitted together in confusion, and his forehead was wrinkled. He still had one hand on the knot of his tie, pulling slightly to loosen it. 

“No, I have not been drinking,” I said calmly.

He scanned my face, clearly looking for any obvious signs of intoxication, but I knew he wouldn’t find any. My voice was calm and steady, my gaze was focused, and my hands didn’t even tremble. 

“Ella, what is......” he shook his head, started over. “What is this nonsense?” 

“It’s not nonsense, Stephen,” I replied and smoothed a hand over my blouse. “I do realize that the timing is horrible with everything else that’s going on right now, but I cannot keep this a secret anymore. I can’t keep lying to you anymore.” I swallowed, took a deep breath. “I’m really very sorry for telling you like this, but-“

“No.” Stephen interrupted and shook his head. 

“Stephen-“ 

“No!” he repeated; this time louder. “No, this is not... You’re not... You cannot be.”

“Stephen, what I’m telling you is the truth,” I said quietly. “I’m a l-lesbian.”

Stephen’s only response to that was to fully loosen the knot in his tie and then yank the tie off. It made no sound as it landed on one of our kitchen chairs. He began to pace up and down the kitchen floor in that particular way he always did when he was on the phone with one of his employees. He ran his fingers through his hair. His mouth was nothing more than a thin line, and his eyes were darker than usual. Finally, his pacing stopped, and he glared at me. “So the twenty one years we’ve spend together has been nothing more than a joke to you?!”

“No, it hasn’t,” I said and shook my head. “I didn’t know when I married you. In fact I didn’t know until very recently.” 

“No,” Stephen said again and shook his head. “No, this is not... You can’t find out this late!”

“You can,” I said. “There are women who doesn’t find out until they’re in their forties. Sometimes even in their fifties and sixties.”

Stephen’s hand wandered up to fiddle with an invisible tie. “And what made this sudden realization dawn upon you?” he sneered in a tone that more than suggested that he didn’t believe me. 

“I-“

“You’ve been having an affair, haven’t you?” he interrupted me.

“Yes,” I admitted immediately.

“Who is she?!” Stephen hissed. 

“Does it really matter?” I asked. I couldn’t see what good this information would do.

“Like hell it does!” Stephen roared. “Who is it, Ella?!”

“She’s someone I met at my art class,” I said. I had no intention of giving him Bliss’ name. 

“Your art class,” Stephen repeated. “You met someone at your art class.” 

I didn’t answer the obvious taunt. 

He resumed his walking back and forward. He tugged slightly at the collar of his shirt again. Fiddled with a button. Was he gonna open the top button? He never did that unless he was under extreme pressure.

“So while I’ve been working hard to pay the rent and make sure there will be food on the table every day, you’ve been screwing some woman?!” he spat. 

“I completely understand your anger, but I don’t think there’s any reason to speak-“

“I will speak how I damn well want to!”

I waited and silently counted to ten. 

“How long has this been going on?!” he bellowed. 

“Is that really important?” I asked. Again, how would it benefit him to know?

“Weeks?!” Stephen demanded. “Months?!” 

“Stephen,” I said plainly and shook my head. 

But he wasn’t done. “So, it’s this easy for you?” he spat. “After twenty one years of marriage you’ve decided that you want out because you think-“

“Easy?” I interrupted and shook my head again. “There is nothing easy about this! I didn’t plan this! I didn’t plan any of it. I never expected to find out who I really am-“

“Who you really are,” he interrupted mockingly. “Ella, can’t you hear how this sounds? You’re not.... You’ve had your head twisted by someone! You’re confused, that’s all.”

“I’ve never been less confused in my entire life.”

“You are my wife!” he exclaimed. For a moment it seemed as though he was giving in to his anger, but then he sobered up: “we’ve been married for twenty one years and together since your first year in college! Am I supposed to believe that you’re about to walk away from that because of a fling?” 

“I can’t pretend to be something I’m not,” I said and then added: “and it’s not a fling.”

“You fell in love with me!” he bellowed. Anger again. “You married me! We’ve been happy for twenty one years and now you-“ 

“Have we?” I quietly interrupted. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Have we been happy lately?” I asked plainly.

“Yes!” he said, but it sounded more defiant than anything else. 

“I don’t think you mean that,” I said and shook my head. “We’ve argued so much lately. That can’t have gone unnoticed by you.” 

I could see that he recognized the truth in my words, but instead of reacting to them, he chose a different approach: “Have I been working too much? Is that it?”

“It’s not because of something you have or haven’t done, Stephen.”

He ignored that. “I know I’ve been working a lot lately, but I can change that! I’ll be home more!”

“Stephen, it won’t make a difference,” I said and shook my head once. 

He seemed to overhear that too, and the look in his eyes was now bordering desperation. He came closer and cupped my cheeks with a bit more intensity than he normally would. 

“We’ll go away together,” he said. “Just you and me, Ella. We can go to Madrid like we’ve talked about. I’ll cancel everything, and we can book plane tickets and now. We can spend time together just like we did in the old days. Wouldn’t that be nice? It’ll be like a honeymoon.”

“It’s not something that can be fixed with a trip, Stephen,” I said and moved my head away from his hands. “It’s not something that can be fixed at all, nor should it be. I don’t need to be fixed. I need... I need the chance to be myself.”

“A chance to be yourself,” Stephen repeated flatly. “You want a chance to be yourself. I cannot believe how selfish you are! What about our life, Ella? What about what I need?”

“Stephen, you don’t need me. And you haven’t been needing me for a long time.”

“I needed you last night,” he pointed out. 

“And did you consider if I needed that last night?” I shot back and thereby brushed one of the subjects I had hoped to go untouched while having this conversation.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, and I saw a muscle in his jaw tremble.

“Nothing,” I said and shook my head.

But he was quick to catch on. “Is that what the problem is? Our sex life? You’re unsatisfied. Is that the reason why you’ve been driven to-“

“I already told you, it’s not something I’ve been driven to,” I said and for the first time felt how my patience was wearing thin. “This wasn’t caused by anything, Stephen. This is who I am.”

“So, you expect me to just go along with it?!” Stephen hissed. “You expect me to announce to everyone that we’re divorcing because my wife’s suddenly found out she’s a dyke?!”

“I don’t think there’s any reason to use homophobic slur.”

He ignored that and came closer again as he asked: “and what about our son?! You can’t just walk away! We have a child for god’s sake!” 

“And what kind of message would it be to send to our son if I stayed here even though it’s not the right thing to do? Isn’t it better that Lucas sees us happy apart instead of miserable together?”

“Not the right thing to do...... Not the right thing to do!” Stephen bellowed as he came closer again. “Our marriage has been the right thing for twenty one years, Ella!” he took my wrist in his hand. Was he trying to hold on to me because he was afraid of losing me, or was it because he was trying to convince me? I wasn’t quite sure. 

“You’re my wife,” he said as his grip on my wrist tightened. 

“Stephen. My wrist.” I said. 

He didn’t react. Instead I saw his knuckles turn white. Pain flared up in my wrist, and I was sure I could hear the joint creak slightly.

“You’re hurting me,” I said calmly. 

He didn’t react to that. He only squeezed my wrist more firmly, and I could see all sorts of emotions in his eyes. His fingers were trembling slightly as they squeezed my wrist, and I heard a slight creak once again. Not a loud one, but still very audible to me.

“Stephen. You’re hurting me,” I said again. My voice was still completely calm. He was gripping my wrist tightly, but I wasn’t the least bit afraid of him. Mostly because I saw the act as one of desperation and not one of violence.

My words seemed to awaken him, and he immediately loosened the pressure on my arm. My wrist throbbed slightly but I ignored the twinge of pain. I didn’t even rub my wrist.

I looked at Stephen. He didn’t look at me. Instead his gaze was fixated on a point somewhere above my head.

“Has she been here?” he asked rather suddenly. 

“What?” 

“Has she been here?!” he bellowed. “Have you screwed her in our bed?!”

“No, I haven’t,” I said calmly.

“And why should I believe that? Why should I believe anything you say? You’ve clearly been lying to me for a while now!”

I couldn’t deny that. I had been lying to him for a while. And even if I had run away after Bliss had kissed me the first time, I certainly had been thinking about her before that. I had been having an emotional affair with her, I was beginning to realize that. Things had happened between us long before that first kiss. Sparks had already been flying between us that night in the restaurant where I had been waiting for Stephen. And perhaps even before that. Yes. I had definitely felt something the first time I saw her smile, the first time she laughed. I had been mesmerized by her hair, her eyes. I had been fascinated right from the start, and it hadn’t just been envy over her youth. It had been something more. I wasn’t in the middle of a midlife crisis, and I never had been. I was in the middle of an awakening. I looked down at my hands. This was not how I wanted to tell Stephen, and I so wished that we could have started this conversation differently, but in hindsight, I was doubting that it would have made the slightest difference. This would still have ended in shouting and heartache, shattered dreams and a future that was crumbling rapidly. Because of me. But I couldn’t take any of my words back. Nor did I want to. I didn’t want to hide who I was. I couldn’t.

“Get out of here.” 

My head snapped up. Stephen was no longer looking at a random point above my head. Instead he was glaring at me, and his eyes radiated pure hatred. 

“What?” I asked dumbly.

“I said, get out of here,” he sneered. 

I opened my mouth, but no words slipped past my lips. It felt like my brain had trouble with catching up with what was happening.

“I want you out of my house!” he hissed, tugging at his collar once more. “Get out and get out right now! I can’t stand looking at you for another minute!”

“Lucas is coming home tomorrow morning,” I said, trying to reason with him. “I can’t just-“ 

“You should have thought about that before you jumped into bed with some woman!” Stephen roared, and I saw how his hands clenched slightly once more. His cheeks were red with anger. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him this angry, if ever. He often snapped and sneered, but he never lost control like he seemingly had right now.

“Stephen-“

“I MEAN IT, ELLA!” Stephen exploded, and his face grew alarmingly red. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! Go to her! That’s clearly the place you want to be! It’s clear that you don’t care about any of this, or our son for that matter! You’ve certainly revealed as much!”

“That’s not tr-“

“LEAVE!” he shouted. “Just get out of here, you... you... bi-“

“Alright!” I interrupted, my voice wasn’t quite as loud as his, but still definitely raised. “I’ll leave.”

“And don’t come back!” he yelled. 

I spun around on my heels and grabbed my purse that contained both my car keys and phone. Then I marched out in the hallway and ripped the door open. My heart hammered as I walked the few steps down the porch and then continued onwards towards my car. I couldn’t quite grasp what had just happened. I struggled to fully acknowledge that I had just been kicked out of my home by my husband. 

I felt like I was in some sort of trance as I started the engine. Hot tears were prickling in my eyes as I drove away from the house, and I had to blink to be able to see.

I didn’t drive to Bliss’ place, even though the thought more than crossed my mind. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t just show up at her place like this. I was a complete mess.

And I felt as though I hadn’t deserved to see her. Not seeing her would be a fair punishment for what I had just done to my husband. 

No, I didn’t drive to Charlotte. Instead I parked at the nearest parking lot and then found my phone in my purse. I did a quick Google search and then dialed a number. It went straight to voicemail. I dialed a different number, but a woman with a very professional voice told me that “everything’s occupied for the night”.

I blinked back tears as I dialed another number I had found. I heard static noise in the other end, and I felt relieved. Maybe that meant that I wouldn’t be send straight to voicemail. 

A moment of silence and then: “Anchorage Inn, how may I help you?”

“Yes, hello, my name is Ella Benson. I’d like...” I blinked, swallowed. “I’d to book a room for tonight. Do you have any available?”

“We do, ma’am.”

“Oh, thank god!”

“Would that be a standard room or a family room, or a kitchenette room? We’ve also got a special deal on-“ 

I couldn’t decipher her rambling. Everything was blurring together in my head, my throat felt constricted, and I released a ragged breath. 

“Ma’am? Hello, ma’am? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here,” I said quickly. “I’d like to book a standard room, please.”

“Alright, ma’am. What did you say your name was?” 

“Ella. Ella Benson.”

“Great. And your address, please?”

“4659 Spear Street.”

“Excellent. And when will you be arriving?”

I almost laughed at that. “In a couple of minutes.”

“In a couple of minutes? I don’t think we’ll be finished cleaning the room so soon, there’s been someone staying until-“

“That doesn’t matter,” I interrupted her. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Very well, ma’am. In that case I’ll be expecting you shortly. Thank you for choosing to stay with us.”

“Bye,” I said and ended the call. 

So far so good. Now I had a place to stay. That was one thing I didn’t have to worry about anymore. At least not for tonight.

I started the car once more and drove towards the hotel that was only fifteen minutes away from my own home. The home I had just been kicked out of.

It turned out that the girl I had been talking to on the phone was named “Daisy”, and I couldn’t think of a more fitting name for her. I tried to smile as I paid for my room. She smiled broadly as she said:   
“Welcome to Anchorage Inn, ma’am. Here’s your key. You’ll be staying in room number seven.”

“Thank you,” I said as I accepted the key. 

She glanced discreetly, but I knew that she had seen my lack of baggage and probably wondered about it. 

“I sort of needed a place to stay urgently,” I said, flashing her a meek smile. “It was an emergency.”

“Emergencies sometimes happens, ma’am. Enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank you.”

“There will be free Wi-Fi in your room, and feel free to use our swimming pool!”

“Thank you.” I didn’t exactly bring a bathing suit with me.

“And breakfast will be served from 6 till 11.”

“Sounds perfect.”

I flashed her another meek smile and then I up the little staircase and down the narrow hallway. 

The room was sparse with two beds and a too big wardrobe squeezed into the corner, but tonight I could more than live with this.

Completely drained, I sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress was slightly bulky, and the bedspread was thin. There was a scratch in the carpet, I noticed. I stretched out my foot so I couldn’t see it. I had begun shaking, I suddenly noticed. I rubbed my arms slightly but knew that this wasn’t because I was cold. I was shaking because I was in shock. 

But perhaps I was gonna be cold. I hadn’t even brought a coat. I hadn’t brought anything. Just my cellphone and my wallet. New tears prickled in my eyes, and I had to bring a fist up to my mouth to muffle my sobs. I had been kicked out of my home. What was I supposed to do? And what about Lucas? He would be home early tomorrow morning. What was he gonna say when he found me gone? What was Stephen gonna tell him? I sobbed quietly again. He was gonna turn Lucas against me, I just knew that. Lucas would resent me. My own son would hate me. I would become estranged from him. He’ll never want to see me again. 

Muffling my sobs was no longer a possibly. I allowed hysteria to take over. I allowed myself to crumble to pieces for a moment. I was allowed to cry for a moment.

But despite everything, I knew that keeping the truth hidden hadn’t been an option either. I couldn’t have kept lying and lying and lying. I had to be honest to myself. I had failed to make the connection between the life I had been living, and the one I should be living. As my authentic self. I deserved to be happy. 

But the price for being happiness seemed devastatingly high right now.

From the depths of my purse, I heard my phone vibrate, and I quickly wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. Then I fished the phone out of my purse. For a brief, crazy moment I thought it was Lucas who called me, but it wasn’t. It was Delia. And that made perfect sense. She had promised to call later tonight, she had said so when she texted me earlier. I had been in the middle of eating what was left of the stuffed peppers. That was why I hadn’t been able to call her back at the time. 

Good god. I shook my head. Earlier tonight I had been eating leftover stuffed peppers in my kitchen, and now I was in a hotel room. 

I quickly glided a hand over the screen to answer the phone: “Delia. Hello.”

“Hey, Ella,” Delia greeted in the other end. “How’s everything going?”

I looked around in the sparse hotel room. “I suppose it could go better. How are you doing? How’s the baby? Kicking away in there, I suppose?” 

“No, you don’t,” Delia said firmly. “We’re still talking about you. Why is it not going well? What happened?”

“I told him,” I said quietly. “I told Stephen the truth.”

“And how did he take it?” Delia asked. 

“He naturally got angry,” I said, and my jaw clenched, muffling my words slightly. “But so did I. So much for discussing things quietly. I suppose it was naïve of me to assume that this could be done without any shouting.”

“Do you want me to swing by your place tomorrow?” Delia offered. “We could have some wine and another chat. Or, you could have some wine. I would have tea.”

I laughed croakily. “That’s sweet of you, but it might be a little difficult. I’m not home right now.”

“Where are you then?”

“I’m at a hotel. I’ve been... I’ve been kicked out.” 

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“Stephen asked me to leave, and I respected his wish.”

Delia cursed in a way that made me move the phone slightly away from my ear. “Why am I in Montpelier tonight?!” she said aggravated.

“I’m fine, Delia.”

“Which hotel are you staying in?”

“Anchorage Inn.” 

“I can be with you in thirty minutes.”

“No, you can’t,” I protested. “It’s a forty nine minute drive from Montpelier. I don’t want you to speed and risk your life. And besides, it’s late. I’ll probably just go to bed.”

“I don’t like this, Ella,” Delia stated plainly. “Tell you what, Tom’s in Burlington tonight. Why don’t I call him and ask him to drive you back to Montpelier so you can stay with us tonight?” 

“That’s very sweet of you, but I’m fine. Really, I am,” I said. “I don’t want Tom to drive all this way.” 

“It’s not a problem at all.”

“I know, but I actually am really t-tired. I just need to sleep.”

Delia sighed. “Alright. But I’ll be calling you first thing tomorrow to check on you. And if you don’t pick up, I will be speed driving all the way there.”

I laughed a little. “Goodnight, Delia.” 

“Goodnight, Ella. I love you, okay?”

“I love you too. And thank you.” I was grateful that she didn’t say “everything is going to be alright” or some nonsense like that.

“Call me if you need me.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye.”

We ended the call, but I didn’t put the phone away. Instead I dialed another number and brought the phone back up to my ear. There was a dialing tone, static noise, and then:

‘Hey, this is Lucas, I can’t answer the phone right now, but you know what to do.’ Beep.

I was almost grateful that he didn’t pick up. I wasn’t completely sure what to tell him, to be honest. I hadn’t really expected him to pick up, though. It was fairly late. I hoped he was sleeping peacefully. 

I settled for leaving him a message: “Lucas, it’s Mum. I want you to call me as soon as you hear this, okay? You don’t have to get worried, I just need you to call me as soon as you hear this message. I love you.”

I hung up and then slid the phone back into my pocket. Now what? Was I supposed to just go to bed and pretend it was any normal night? I wasn’t sure I could do that. But what else could I do? I looked around in the sparse hotel room. In hindsight, I should probably have booked a double room. Or a kitchenette room. But I had been so out of it I had just chosen the first and the best thing. 

Now I was starting to regret that. The bedside table was scratched, there was a fine layer of dust everywhere, and I wasn’t completely sure, but it looked like there was fungus in the far left corner of the ceiling. 

I shrugged my blazer off and opened the top button in my blouse. I shouldn’t be complaining. This was entirely well deserved. I had done something terrible to my family. This was a very fair punishment.

I couldn’t sleep. The thought alone was ridiculous. I ended up sitting at the edge of the bed staring at nothing. I suddenly remembered that I had left a cup standing on the kitchen table. Who was gonna put that away now? What about Stephen? What was he doing now? Had he gone to bed, or had he sealed himself away in his office? He often did that when he felt that everything was against him. Or perhaps he had gone for a drive. There were times were he had done that in the past. I remembered a time where I had been heavily pregnant, and we had just moved into the house in Vermont. Stephen and I had argued, nasty things had been said, and he had suddenly left the house and driven off. I had ended up experiencing a mini panic attack because I thought he wasn’t gonna come back. On top of that, I had suddenly experienced Braxton hicks’ contractions. That hadn’t helped enormously, and I had become really afraid because I thought that I was going into labor while I was alone. 

I had ended up calling Delia, and she stayed with me and calmed me down. About an hour later, Stephen had returned, and I could still remember the look Delia had given him. She had even asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, leaving his pregnant wife like that. 

Stephen had apologized profusely, but since then, him and Delia were not on friendly terms. He would grumble when I brought her up, and she would narrow her eyes and ask if “Prince Charming was still behaving”.

I chuckled quietly in the darkness, but the sound was sadder than anything else. There wasn’t much to laugh about. In fact the situation was terrible. 

Perhaps I should ring Delia and ask her to come and pick me up anyway, I mused to myself. But I just as quickly scrapped that idea. It was getting late and Delia was pregnant. She needed her sleep now   
more than ever. And Tom... No. I shook my head. There really wasn’t any reason to ask that poor man to drive all the way from Montpelier either. No, this was my mess. My punishment.

I rubbed a hand over my face. Stephen’s angry outbursts were still ringing in my ears, and the sound soon turned into something heavy that weighed my head down slightly. A tension headache.   
Marvelous. Just what I needed. I rubbed my temples and wiggled my feet out of my shoes. At least I had been wearing shoes when I left. God, I hadn’t brought anything. Well, I had my phone and wallet and car keys, but apart from that, I hadn’t brought anything. I had no clothes, no toothbrush, no nothing. What was I supposed to do? The situation was acceptable for one night, but what about tomorrow? And the next day? And the next? I doubted Stephen had any intention of letting me back into the house tomorrow. If ever.

I thought of Lucas and fresh tears threatened to fall. What if Stephen would prevent me from seeing him again? What if this would end in an ugly custody battle? Where would that leave me? I was the woman who had cheated on my hardworking husband. I had no doubts that Stephen would use that to his advantage. 

I opened the bedside drawer and found a box of Kleenex. I quietly blew my nose and then sniffled into the napkin. Was this the price for discovering who I was? Could I lose my son because of it?

I sobbed quietly and hoped that there wasn’t anybody living in the room next to me. Maybe this was it. Maybe I had just lost everything. Did I even deserve to be happy after what I had just done?

The worst thing was that I could see it happen. Stephen’s entirely family rallying around him and ensuring that I wouldn’t be able to see Lucas again. 

And what about what Lucas thought? He was a smart boy who didn’t let himself be manipulated by others thoughts and feelings, but there was every possibility that he wouldn’t want to see me either. I was the one who had destroyed the family. Why should he want to see me again? 

I sniffled again and blew my nose in the tissue. Then I went into the bathroom and washed my face. I looked terrible. My nose was red, and my eyes were swollen and puffy. Perhaps even a little bloodshot.   
My cheeks were horribly grimy. Perhaps I was allergic to the Kleenex I had used to wipe my cheeks. I threw the tissue into the little rubbish bin in the bathroom. The very small bathroom. There really wasn’t a lot of room in here. Staying in here would undoubtedly make me feel claustrophobic. I opened the little cabinet above the sink and found a glass. I quickly filled the glass with water from the tap and then I went back into the bedroom. Opened my purse and found the bottle of headache tablets I always carried with me in case of emergencies. I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken one of these, but tonight was definitely an emergency. I quickly downed the pill and emptied the glass of water. 

I should sleep. I knew I should. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but I had an inkling I would be needing all my strength. I sat the glass aside and then opened the second and third button in my blouse. I shrugged the thin bedspread aside and then climbed into bed fully dressed. It was far from comfortable, but I didn’t care. I didn’t deserve to be comfortable tonight.

I tossed and turned. Rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling and the spot of fungus. My thoughts were blurring together. Some of them made sense, some of them didn’t. But eventually, the distorted thoughts turned into a replay of everything Stephen had said to me tonight.

‘What did you say?’

I swallowed something as I remembered his first, disbelieving response. 

‘Have you been drinking?’

His second response. He had hoped that intoxication was the reason I had said what I said. 

‘What is this nonsense?’

I clenched my jaw. He had clung to the hope that this somehow was a scam.

‘So the past twenty one years has been nothing more than a joke to you?!’

I cringed as I recalled his understandable anger. 

But those twenty one years had not been a joke to me.

‘You’ve been having an affair, haven’t you?!’

Yes. Yes, I had. 

‘Who is she?!’

Why had that mattered to him? Had he been afraid that it had been someone he knew?

‘So while I’ve been working hard to pay the rent and make sure there will be food on the table every day, you’ve been screwing some woman?!’

I swallowed and my chest rose and fell too quickly underneath the thin duvet. 

‘You are my wife!’

He had switched from anger to clinging to what he deemed normal. My wrist throbbed slightly.

Then he had blamed himself. Blamed it on his work. He had said that he would stop working so much and be more home, but as I had told him, it wouldn’t have changed anything. He had suggested a trip for just the two of us. Madrid, like we had talked about. He had desperately been trying to convince both himself and me that this was something that could be fixed. 

But I didn’t need to be fixed. And I had told him that. 

‘You expect me to announce to everyone that we’re divorcing because my wife’s suddenly found out she’s a dyke?!’

I bit my lip. He had really said that.

‘And what about our son?! You can’t just walk away! We have a child for god’s sake!’

And what sort of role model would I have been if I had stayed in a marriage even though I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do?

‘Have you screwed her in our bed?!’

I shook my head firmly in the darkness. No, I haven’t.

‘And why should I believe that? Why should I believe anything you say? You’ve clearly been lying to me for a while now!!’

He was right. I had. 

‘Get out of here.’

My breath quickened again. 

‘Get out and get out right now! I can’t stand looking at you for another minute!’

My head ached as did my chest. I couldn’t sleep. And I couldn’t do this alone. I sat up in bed so quickly the duvet ended up on the floor. Then I scrambled to find my phone on the bedside table. I ended up knocking the glass over, and I flinched when I heard it shatter. 

But I couldn’t be bothered with that right now. Right now, there was only one thing that mattered. My fingers trembled and slipped on the screen as I dialed a number. 

First silence. Then a dialing tone. 

More silence. 

My throat constricted. If I reached a voicemail, I didn’t know what I would do.

Dialing tone again. A bit of rustling and bustling in the other end, and then a sleepy and raspy: “hello?”

“Bliss?” I whispered. “It’s Ella....”


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

“Ella?” Bliss asked, and I heard more rustling and bustling. I imagined her sitting up in bed. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I said and almost laughed because of how innocent that question normally was. Something completely normal to ask someone. A conversation starter, even. No, I’m not alright.

“What happened?” Bliss asked, now there was concern in her voice. Perhaps she had detected the twinge of hysteria in mine. 

“Everything happened,” I whispered. My throat tightened, and now I felt no bizarre urge to laugh. Instead I felt like weeping all over again. 

“What do you mean?” Bliss asked. Now she sounded really worried. 

“I... I told my h-husband everything, and he... had a completely reasonable reaction,” I whispered. 

“A completely reasonable reaction?” Bliss echoed in the other end, and I heard more rustling and bustling in the background. 

“He got very upset and kicked me out of the house. He had every reason to, so I don’t blame him for it all, it’s completely fine, and I really shouldn’t be dumping all this on you, I’m sorry. I suppose I just wanted to hear your voice, but now I realize how late it is and I really shouldn’t-“

“Hey, hey, hey, Ella. Slow down,” Bliss gently but firmly interrupted. “Breathe.”

I took a deep breath, surprised to discover how much I needed it. 

“First of all, he did what?” Bliss snapped. 

There was that bizarre urge to laugh again, but I was crying all the same as I said: “I don’t think his reaction is something he can be b-blamed for.” 

“I disagree,” Bliss said tightly in the other end. 

I swallowed something. “His reaction is justifiable. The worst thing is that he kicked me out before I could see Lucas, and now I don’t know whether he’s intending to keep me from him permanently.”

“Ella...”

“I can’t lose my son!” I sobbed and desperately tried to get a hold of myself. “B-but I can’t keep pretending to be something I’m not! God, I don’t know what to do. I think I’m losing it completely, Bliss.”

“Where are you?” Bliss asked.

“Anchorage Inn,” I said, and then, in the same breath: “I shouldn’t have called you this late. I’m sorry. I should have figured out that you would be asleep now.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

I laughed strangled. “Your lies are very sweet, but unfortunately not very convincing. I know I woke you, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Bliss said earnestly. “I... God, this is probably completely inappropriate considering what you’re going through right now, but I’ve been thinking about you all the time.”

Perhaps it was inappropriate, but the only thing I could pay attention to, was the way her words made the knot of panic in my stomach soften slightly. 

“I’ve been... thinking a lot about you too,” I whispered. That was true, but once again I was reaching out to her for all the wrong reasons. I had called her because I was upset about what had happened between me and my husband, and that wasn’t fair to dump on her. “But I should probably let you sleep now. I’m sorry for w-waking you.”

“No, Ella, really it’s fin-“

“Goodnight,” I whispered as I quietly ended the call. I closed my eyes as I put the phone down on the table. I closed my eyes. I shouldn’t have called her this late. Wanting to hear her voice was not a   
justifiable excuse for calling her and dumping all my problems on her. I shook my head. God, I was so selfish!

I opened my eyes and looked at the shattered glass on the floor. What a mess I had made. But at least I could clean this mess. I climbed off the bed and knelt on the floor. I cupped my hand slightly as I began picking up the tiny pieces of glass. They were spread all over the carpet, and twice I almost cut myself on the glass. I wondered whether it would actually hurt. I felt oddly numb. Like I wasn’t completely here. 

I mechanically continued my work until all the pieces of glass were in my hand. Then I went into the bathroom and threw them in the rubbish bin. I felt nauseous. For a moment I was certain that I was gonna throw up, but I took a couple of deep breaths and then dabbed water onto my face. I told myself that it made me feel better even though it didn’t. 

I went back to the bedroom and lied down on the bed. But I instinctively knew that I wasn’t gonna be able to go to sleep, so why even try? I stared at the patch of fungus in the ceiling without really seeing it. I worried what I was gonna do tomorrow. I had only booked this room for one night, and even though I doubted that there would be coming any new guests tomorrow, I couldn’t very well stay here in the long run. I had to think of something else. But what? My housekey was lying in the drawer in the hallway at home, and I had brought no spare key. 

God, I can’t get into my own home. I literally had no chance of getting into the house. The knot of panic in my stomach stirred again, and my throat constricted once more. Why hadn’t I anticipated this?   
Why hadn’t I considered that this could happen? In all those stories I had read online about women coming out later in life, a few of them had described how they had been kicked out of the house. Why hadn’t I included that in my concerns? I supposed I had just been naïve.

I folded my arms behind my neck. Wiggled my legs slightly in an attempt to get comfortable, but it was a lost cause. I wasn’t gonna be comfortable tonight. I didn’t deserve to be comfortable tonight. 

‘Get out and get out right now! I can’t stand looking at you for another minute!’

I bit my lip. Stephen’s voice had been all hatred, and I wondered how easy it would be for Lucas to start hating me? It was certainly easy enough to imagine that he would start resenting me. Really resent me. It was harder to imagine that he wouldn’t. I had read about that too. The women who came out, but lost their family, their children in the process. Their adult children cutting off all contact, and younger children turning on them for having destroyed their family. 

Lucas turning on me. A custody battle. A custody battle Stephen won. He would ship Lucas off to some boarding school in Boston, and I wouldn’t see my son again. The panic rose in my chest again, and for a second, I considered to run into the bathroom and throw up anyway. I had never felt so scared and lost before. For as long as I could remember, I had always known what tomorrow would bring, and now I didn’t know anything anymore. I didn’t even know where I was gonna be tomorrow. Perhaps I finally knew who I was, but that was just about it. Apart from that, everything was hanging in the balance. 

I sniffled quietly once more, and when I brought a hand up to rub at my cheek, I noticed it was wet. I hadn’t even realized that I had started to cry again. 

I shifted and curled up in a fetal like position. That wasn’t very comfortable either, but at least it was warmer like this. They had forgotten to switch the heater on in here, but I was too exhausted to get up and switch it on. This would have to do. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. Perhaps I could force myself to fall asleep. I hoped so. I had no doubts that tomorrow was gonna be exactly as hard as today, if not harder, and I would be needing whatever strength I could muster. Ergo, I had to fall asleep. 

I grabbed the thin duvet and tossed it over my body. Then I curled into a ball on the surprisingly small bed and squeezed my eyes shut once more. 

At first it seemed as though my attempt of sleeping would be in vain. My thoughts were spiraling out of control, and it was impossible to not think.

But eventually, I fell into a fitful sleep, and reality was bleeding through as I dreamt of receiving a letter. A letter in which Stephen demanded sole custody over Lucas, and furthermore forbade me to contact my son. I wasn’t fit to be a mother, the letter said. 

A custody battle. I lost. Stephen got full custody over Lucas. He would take him away from here. 

“You’ll never see him again!’

“No, you can’t do that! You can’t take him away from me!’

“You don’t deserve him, you cheating whore!’

“I hate you!’ Lucas hissed. ‘And I don’t ever want to see you again!’

“Lucas, please-‘

“No! You’ve ruined everything!’ he yelled. ‘This is your own fault! You’ve ruined dad’s life and mine! Why weren’t we enough, mum?! Why couldn’t you just be happy with us?!’

“Lucas, please! You don’t under-‘

“I understand that you’ve ruined everything! You should have been my mother when you had the chance! This is your own fault! I’m going with dad, and I don’t ever want to see you again! I’m ashamed of   
you, do you understand? I’m ashamed that you’re my mother!’

Stephen put his hand on Lucas’ shoulder and sneered at me. “You see what you’ve done? You’ve turned your own son against you!”

“No, please I-“

“You’ll never get to see him again!” Stephen interrupted. “I’ll make sure of that!”

“Goodbye, MUM,” Lucas said mockingly. “Have a good life!”

“No, wait! Please don’t go!”

But it was too late. Stephen let Lucas out of the court room, and his lawyer prevented me from following them. “You lost, Mrs. Benson. You no longer have any legal right to Lucas. Stephen has. And if it’s his decision that you shouldn’t see Lucas anymore, that’s how it’s gonna be.”

‘But he’s my son! He can’t just-“

“Yes, he can,” the lawyer interrupted. “Lucas is his now. I’m afraid you have to come to terms with that.”

“I won’t! I’ll never stop fighting for my son!”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Benson.... I don’t think your son wants anything to do with you.”

“Lucas!” I sobbed. “Lucas, please don’t go! Please!”

The door to the court room was slammed shut.

“No! Wait! Please!”

He didn’t answer, but the door kept rattling and clattering. Rattling... Rattling and clattering.... Like someone was banging on it with their fists. 

Knock, knock, knock!

“Lucas!”

My own cry woke me. A dream. I had been dreaming. But the sound of someone tapping their fists against the door didn’t stop.

Knock, knock, knock!

It took me ten solid seconds to realize that the sound was real. That someone was in fact knocking on the door. 

For a crazy moment I thought that it was Lucas who somehow had found out that I was here, and now was coming to see me, but I quickly sobered up and came to my senses. Had Delia really driven all the way from Montpelier even though I had asked her not to? She could very well have done that. It wouldn’t have been the first time she had done something silly. 

Still slightly disorientated and with fresh tears on my cheeks, I stumbled out of the bed. Fists were still being tapped against the door, and as I neared the door, I suddenly remembered that there was one more person who knew that I was here....

But she wouldn’t. Would she? No. No of course not. It had to be Delia on the other side of that door. It had to be Delia who would barge in with her red hair in a flurry, and her green eyes glowing as she proclaimed that “we’re leaving right now”.

Knock, knock, knock!

More insistent this time. Delia was certainly eager to get in. 

My fingers trembled some as I removed the heavy chain from the door and then pried it open. 

It wasn’t Delia who was huffing with impatience on the other side of the door. Instead it was....

“Bliss.” I croaked. 

Yes, there she was. With wild hair and wearing an enormous, yellow scarf over her jeans and t-shirt outfit. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that she had stumbled out of bed and blundered straight into her car to drive here. 

“What are you... What are you doing here?” I rasped. I couldn’t quite believe my own eyes. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. “Are you gonna let me come in or what?”

Utterly baffled, I stepped aside so she could come inside. “How did you even-“

“Daisy at the counter was very helpful,” Bliss said and shrugged the enormous, yellow scarf off and stepped out of her shoes.

I shook my head. Was I hallucinating, or was she in fact here? I blinked, but she was still there when I opened my eyes. 

“Are you angry that I’m here?” Bliss asked and her coffee colored eyes darkened slightly as she doubted her actions. 

“N-no,” I whispered, and my voice cracked. First being kicked out of my home, then the horrible dream, and now the woman I cared so much for was here. It was too much. I couldn’t quite choke back a   
sob.

“Oh, Ella,” Bliss said gently, and then she was wrapping her arms around me. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m c-crying all over you. Again.”

“And I wonder when you’ll wake up and realize that I don’t mind,” Bliss said as she scratched up and down my back. It felt good. Very soothing. 

“I’m such a mess,” I croaked. 

“A beautiful mess,” Bliss said.

I laughed watery into her shoulder. “I look terrible.”

“No, you don’t. You never do.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“No, I’m not. God, I was so worried about you,” she admitted as she tightened her grip on me a little. 

“I’m fi-“

“No, you’re not. You’re the opposite of fine,” Bliss huffed as she gently released me and then guided me to sit on the bed. She sat down next to me. “Tell me what I can do to make it better.”

“The fact alone that you’re here is...” I shook my head. She had barely been in the room for a minute, and yet her presence already felt like a soothing balm. Things didn’t seem quite as horrible when she was here. 

“Well, I’m not gonna go anywhere,” she said firmly. 

I shook my head slightly once more. 

“I mean it, Ella. You’re in this situation because of me-“

“No, I’m not. I’m in this situation because of me,” I corrected. “I chose to kiss you, I chose to go to bed with you, and if this is the consequences...” I gestured towards the hotel room. 

“You don’t have to stay here. Come back to my place.”

“No, I think I have to be here. It’s a worthy punishment-“ 

“You don’t have to punish yourself for anything.” 

I ignored that. “I’ve booked this room for one night. Then I’ll have to see what I do tomorrow.”

“You could come back to my place?”

“We’ll see,” I said and eyed her yellow scarf as I reached up and scratched my chin absentmindedly. What was it with her and yellow? I looked at her. She looked great as always in her jeans and wonder woman shirt. Wonder woman. I almost chuckled. It certainly was a wonder that she was here right now. I reached out and touched her scarf again. That had to be the most yellow thing she owned. It was even yellow-er than that dress I had seen her in. That yellow dress.... I found myself tumbling down a pleasant sidetrack as I remembered that dress, and what had happened the night she had worn it. I thought back to dusty bricks against my back, soft, warm lips against my own, and equally warm palms pressing lightly against my cheeks. Wild curls tickling me and those red flowers she’d had in her hair that night. But most of all, I remembered that yellow dress. How the color yellow had been what triggered my memory that morning when I had been hungover and unable to remember what had happened the previous night. 

“What the hell is that?”

“Hmm?” I had almost been zoning out completely, but now I finally forced myself to look up at Bliss. “What’s what?”

“That,” Bliss said and gestured towards my right wrist. 

I followed her gaze and noted that my sleeve had ridden up when I had reached to touch her scarf, and the result was that my wrist was bared. I felt slightly surprised as I took in the purple-blue mark on   
my wrist. He didn’t grab me that firmly... Did he? 

“Where did that come from?” Bliss asked through gritted teeth, and I think her nostrils flared dangerously. “Or, should I ask who did it?!”

“I think he was just trying to-“

“Don’t you fucking dare making excuses for him!”

“I’m not. Of course I’m not.”

“Has he never done something like that before?” Bliss asked plainly. 

“No. Not ever.”

Bliss relaxed only a little at that. “Either way, this is bordering domestic violence,” she said as she gently took my wrist between her hands and examined the purple-blue mark.

“It’s not that bad.”

She shot me a look of despair. “I hope you’re aware that you’re using all the clichés right now.”

“I mean it. It’s not that bad. I didn’t even notice it was there until you said something. Honestly.”

She didn’t look very convinced, and she even lifted my hand and brought my wrist up to her lips. I gasped slightly as she kissed the bruised skin. 

“That feels nice,” I murmured softly, and didn’t even feel guilty. Because it did feel nice.

“Yeah?” Bliss said and gently released my wrist. Then she kissed my cheek instead.

“That too.” I said and almost chuckled a little. 

She kissed my cheek again. This time closer to my lips, and I swallowed something and tried to keep my head together.

“How about that?” she asked softly. 

“That feels very nice too,” I confirmed. 

She mouthed her way closer to my lips, and for a moment I considered to turn my head and avoid her kiss. We shouldn’t tonight. I don’t deserve to feel anything but miserable. But then Bliss’ soft lips covered my own, and it occurred to me, that perhaps I did in fact deserve to feel good after all. At least for a moment. Her hands were in mine, and even though her presence couldn’t fix everything, it certainly felt like things were fixable.

“I’m proud of you,” Bliss murmured as she broke the kiss. 

I raised an eyebrow.

“For coming out,” Bliss clarified. “That took a lot of guts.”

“And look where it brought me,” I half-quipped and gestured towards the hotel room. “But I couldn’t keep lying,” I continued and shook my head, looked down. “I have to live my life as m-myself instead   
of pretending because it’s easier.”

My hand was squeezed again, and Bliss’ eyes were so soft when I looked up at her. 

“I officially have no idea what’s gonna happen next,” I admitted. 

“Do you need to?” Bliss asked gently. 

“No, I suppose I don’t,” I admitted. “But that’s just how I’ve always lived my life.”

She squeezed my fingers once more. 

Wanting to talk about something else for a moment, something that wasn’t about me, I reached out and touched her yellow scarf once more. “What is it with you and yellow?” I asked softly.

“That’s my mom’s doing,” Bliss said and reached out and touched the scarf herself. 

Her mother again. The mother Bliss spoke so lovingly about, the mother who wasn’t here anymore. 

“May I ask what happened to her?” I quietly inquired. 

“I figured you would at some point,” Bliss said with a little half-smile. “And yes, of course you may. I want you to know me.”

I smiled a little at that. I wanted to know her.

Bliss cleared her throat slightly before she began speaking: “First of all, my mother was an extremely vibrant person.” She fiddled slightly with the yellow scarf. 

I made no attempt at getting her to continue. I could sense that this was a difficult subject. 

“She was always smiling, and she loved colors,” Bliss continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her angry.”

I reached out and took her hand.

“I was around eleven when it happened,” Bliss said. “We were on holiday in Florida all three of us. Mom, dad and me. I had been looking forward to that trip for six months.”

I didn’t know the outcome of the story, but my heart plummeted anyway.

“We were standing on the beach, my mom and I,” Bliss continued. “We were talking about the sun, how it somehow seemed more yellow there than back home, and my mom said that she wished she could find clothes that were just as yellow. I said to her that I wanted to wear yellow every day from now, and she laughed and said something along the line of “that’s right, Bliss. Always wear a little sunshine.”

I squeezed her hand.

“My dad came out on the beach to fetch me,” Bliss continued. “He and my mom said I needed to put on more sunscreen. I think we argued a little because I didn’t want to go back to the hotel and put on more sunscreen, but in the end, they had their way, and me and my dad went back inside while my mom stayed on the beach. She wanted to go for another swim.”

Now my heart was hammering.

“I still don’t fully understand how it happened,” Bliss said quietly. “But when dad and I came back outside, mom was gone. A couple of other tourists had seen her head into the water, so my dad went in and tried to find her, but she was just... gone. Just like that.”

I had a massive lump in my throat that prevented me from swallowing properly. 

“The police never found her, but they had to assume that she had drowned.” Bliss said. “I don’t understand how she could have drowned, because she was a good swimmer, but I supposed she must have hit her head and knocked herself unconscious. The rip current must have taken her.”

“Bliss...” I squeezed her hand again. 

Bliss sniffled as she squeezed back. “Afterwards, I kept thinking that the police was wrong. That she hadn’t drowned. She was such a good swimmer! I kept thinking that she would come home again soon.   
And I kept imagining that for a while.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. “Saying “I’m sorry” isn’t good enough.”

“I wish I couldn’t remember anything from the time after,” she said quietly. “But I can. Including all the nights where my dad cried.”

I sniffled again. 

“Things were so chaotic,” Bliss said as she stared at a point in the wall. “My dad got very, very depressed and was in a hospital for a long time. I stayed at my aunt’s, and she was amazing at making   
everything seem as though it was normal. Even though it was the opposite. After a while, my dad was released from the hospital, but he was never really there, you know? I spend a lot of my time at my aunt Tamara afterwards. She never officially adopted me, but after a while she stopped correcting people when they assumed that I was her daughter. I love my dad very much, but he forgot me while he   
was grieving. He was so wrapped up in mourning his wife in that he didn’t think about that I had lost a mother.”

I was just about to reach up and wipe my tears way, but Bliss beat me to it, and gently wiped my cheeks. “I’ve made you cry again. I’m sorry.”

I ignored that. “How do you even... How can you even be? I don’t understand. You’ve gone through the worst thing anyone can go through, and yet you’re still this wonderful, happy person.” 

Bliss smiled a little as she let her fingers linger on my cheek. “I saw what the grief did to my dad, and I decided fairly quickly that I wouldn’t let myself go down that road. When I was in high school, things sort of went to hell for a while. It was everything at once, really. I was confused about my sexuality, I didn’t like myself, and I missed my mom, and I felt so vulnerable....” Bliss took another deep breath.   
“But... things got better. I started seeing a psychiatrist like I had done when I was younger. She got me back on track, and I started to actually like myself again. I came to terms with my sexual orientation, and I finally started to feel like I could move on, you know?”

I sat in silence. I was in awe over how strong she was, and at the same time I felt ridiculous over flipping out over my current situation. I shouldn’t be whining over this, when she’s been through that.

“It was actually my psychiatrist’s idea to wear something yellow,” Bliss said. “So that’s what I decided to go. Wear a bit of sunshine every day. And that’s what I’ve done ever since.” as she spoke, she reached into the bag she had brought with her, found her wallet and then tugged a picture out of it. “That’s her.”

I looked at the picture of the smiling woman with sparkling eyes and wild curls. She was wearing a flowery dress, and she oozed the same positive, outgoing energy as Bliss. 

“You look very much like her,” I smiled. 

“Yes, I’ve been told a few times,” Bliss half-chuckled. 

“What is her name?”

“Josephine,” Bliss said softly as she stuffed the picture away again. “Now you know why I like yellow.”

My smile faltered and I shook my head. “I shouldn’t sit here and whine about my tiny, pathetic problems when you’ve-“

“Your problems are not tiny or pathetic, Ella,” Bliss firmly interrupted. “They’re just as real as mine were.”

“Yes, but my problems are small compared to-“

“No, they’re not,” Bliss said and took my hand. “Not when you’re going through them, they’re not.”

“I don’t know about that,” I mumbled.

Bliss ignored that. “She would have liked you. My mom, I mean.”

“You think so?”

“Mmm,” Bliss said and smiled a little. “She was a huge art lover. You two would have had lots to talk about. And plus, she loved British accent.”

I couldn’t help but to chuckle slightly at that revelation. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah. She loved watching British television shows,” Bliss recalled and grinned. “My dad used to tease her about how she was secretly trying to learn to speak with a British accent.”

“She sounds wonderful,” I said softly. The way Bliss described her mother was so tender, and I had no doubts where Bliss had inherited her way of being. My heart ached for Bliss. I couldn’t even begin to   
imagine the pain she had felt. Her story gave some perspective, made my own problems seem so small and insignificant. So unimportant when looking at the bigger picture.

“Where are your things?”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Your things. Your luggage and stuff,” Bliss clarified. 

“Oh,” I said and frowned slightly. “I didn’t really get the chance to pack anything. I was sort of in a hurry when I left.”

Now Bliss was frowning too. “So you don’t have any clothes or anything?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I think clothes is the least of my problems right now.”

“Maybe, but still a problem nevertheless,” Bliss said firmly as she rose from the bed and then walked over to the other bed that was squeezed into the other end of the hotel room. She began pushing the bed, and I cringed slightly at the sound it made is it scraped over the floor. 

“Now what are you doing?” I asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m pushing the beds together,” Bliss said plainly, and after a bit more scraping, the bedframes collided with a thud. “Woops. There we go.”

“Are you quite sure that’s allowed?” I asked.

“I dunno,” Bliss shrugged. “But I do know that if I’m going to stay here tonight, I don’t want to sleep over there. I like being close to you.”

That made me smile again. “I should have booked a double room instead.”

“Nah, this is good,” Bliss grinned as she elegantly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans and then elegantly stepped out of them. I tried not to let myself get distracted by her long legs and ridiculously small panties.

I was exhausted. This had quite possibly been the longest day in my life. I really needed to sleep, and now I actually believed that I would be able to. So I followed Bliss’ example and unbuttoned the top button in my slacks and then opened another button in my blouse. 

“That can’t be very comfortable to sleep in,” Bliss commented as she shoved the thin bedspread aside, ready to climb into bed. 

“It’s alright,” I quickly assured her.

She huffed. “No, seriously, you can’t sleep in that.”

I chuckled vaguely. “I don’t think I have much of a choice, really.”

“Sure you do,” Bliss said, and then she was pulling her wonder woman t-shirt over her head. 

“W-what are you doing?” I asked and tried not to get affected by that. 

“I’m giving you something to sleep in,” she said lightly as she balled up the t-shirt and then tossed it over to me. “Catch.” 

I did indeed catch the t-shirt and I tried to focus on unbuttoning my blouse the rest of the way instead of paying attention to the way Bliss was fixing the straps on her sports bra. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Bliss said and shook her head slightly, sending her dark curls bouncing around her face. “You don’t mind me looking at you, do you?”

“No. I like when you look at me,” I openly admitted and smiled a little. 

“Good. Because I’m not sure I know how to stop,” she said. 

I chuckled slightly, and then I slid the blouse down my shoulders and bared my bra. Now I wished that I had worn a sports bra instead. I could easily have slept in that. But this wired bra would not be very comfortable to wear now that I was making a serious attempt at going to sleep. I first slid the straps down my shoulders, and then I reached behind me and unclasped the bra in one, swift motion. 

Bliss made a sound, and I quickly looked up at her. She wasn’t looking at my bared upper body. Instead her gaze was fixated on the bluish-purple mark on my wrist. 

“It looks worse than it is,” I said as I pulled the borrowed t-shirt over my head. “I can’t feel it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true.” 

She ignored that and mustered a smile. “You look good wearing my shirt.” 

“It’s very comfortable.”

“Are you gonna take off your pants too?” 

“Oi,” I sweetly chided. The word wasn’t very harsh, and I chuckling slightly. 

“I’m just sayin’... Wearing pants to bed can’t be very comfortable,” Bliss said and offered a little half-smirk.

“No, I suppose you’re right about that,” I said and then lifted my hips so I could tug the slacks down my legs. Once I was free of them, I tossed the slacks onto the nearby chair. Then I climbed into bed. It didn’t take long before Bliss was slinking closer, and our bare legs intertwined under the thin covers. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” Bliss asked softly as she lightly cupped my cheek. 

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’m exhausted, but...”

“I get it,” Bliss nodded. “And I’d be more than happy to talk all night if that’s what you need.”

My heart melted completely and utterly at that, and once again, that cold knot of panic seemed to soften. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah. Anything.” Bliss said immediately, and her fingers gently stroked my cheek.

“If I were... If I were to go somewhere,” I said slowly. “Somewhere that could be far away... Would you...... Would you come with me?”

“Are you serious?” Bliss asked and her fingers stilled on my cheek. 

I frowned slightly. “It was a dumb question, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but only if you think that my answer would be “no”.” Bliss said.

“You would...”

“Yeah. I’d come with you.” She interrupted and her coffee colored eyes sparkled slightly. “I’d go with you wherever you’d want me to.” 

I chuckled quietly. “I don’t even know yet whether I’m going anywhere or not, but if I am... It’s nice to know that I won’t be going alone.”

Bliss didn’t answer as she went back to gently caressing my cheek with her fingertips. The soft caress felt very nice, and I closed my eyes for a moment to really soak up the feeling. When I opened my eyes again, I saw her frowning slightly as she looked at me. One could almost think that she was simply very busy doing what she did, but I was fairly certain that she had something on her mind. She looked as though she was thinking very deeply about something. 

I exhaled and waited. Smiled a little at her as I silently tried to get her to say what was on her mind, but she still didn’t say anything, and sooner rather than later, curiosity won over me. 

“What are you thinking about?” I gently asked.

“Something I can’t say because it’s too much, and too soon.”

“Oh,” I said quietly, and my heart thrummed in my chest once more, but this time for much more pleasant reasons. I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up choking up once more. Perhaps it was too much,   
and perhaps it was too soon, but for a moment I didn’t care. I just wanted to hear her say it out loud. But then I remembered the current situation and reminded myself that perhaps tonight wasn’t the best night for major confessions. So many things had happened today already, and if she said it out loud, there was a very fair chance that the last little bit of common sense I was clinging on to would disappear, and I would break down completely.

“Can I think it?” Bliss asked quietly. 

I leaned forward slightly and kissed her lips softly. “You can. As much as you want to.” 

“Thank you.” She snuggled closer to me, and I wasn’t completely aware over who was lying in whose arms. 

But it didn’t matter right now. Her presence gave me exactly what I needed. A small flicker of hope. A tiny belief that perhaps things would work out after all. 

My thoughts dwindled. Faded into nothing, and for the first time since I had checked into this hotel, I felt comfortable as I laid there in my borrowed t-shirt and with the beautiful woman in her arms.   
Perhaps things will be alright. Perhaps I’ll be alright.

“Goodnight, Ella,” Bliss whispered. 

“Goodnight,” I mumbled. Goodnight. I love you.

The last thing I felt before finally falling asleep, was slightly coarse curls tickling my cheek, and I couldn’t think of a better way to fall asleep than this, and I was overwhelmed by gratitude towards her. She was here. She was really here. No matter what was gonna happen, I wouldn’t be facing it alone....


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

My first instinctive reaction when I woke the following morning was happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness. Simply because I found myself asleep completely entangled with Bliss.

But then I remembered. Remembered why my happiness was filled with sharp edges. I really shouldn’t be happy right now. Had no right to be happy.

Quietly, not to wake Bliss who was still fast asleep, I sat up in bed and rubbed a hand over my face. Brushed my hair out of my eyes. Then I reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up as I pressed the round button in the middle, and apparently it was nine in the morning. Nine. I was surprised that I had been capable of sleeping for that long. Perhaps I had reached a level of exhaustion that required extra sleep. I quickly tapped in my code and looked at the screen. Nothing.

I told myself that it was fine. Lucas was never up this early in the weekends. He was a teenager, after all. As a child, he had always been up early, but now that he was a teenager, things were different. He loved sleeping in, and especially It was alright. This wasn’t unusual in any way. He was just being his normal self. It was fine. 

But I couldn’t quite hide from the fact that I had naively hoped that I would have woken up and seen several missed calls from him. I quickly dialed his number and waited, but I was greeted by his voicemail. He’s still asleep, I told myself. He’s sleeping in because it’s weekend. It’s fine. It’s normal. I tried to ignore the ice cold feeling of disappointment as I put the phone down on the nightstand once more. Then I smoothened a hand over my borrowed t-shirt. It really was very comfortable. Perhaps Bliss and I didn’t have the same style, but if all her t-shirts were this comfortable, I could imagine wearing the same clothes as she did. I bet it’s really comfortable to wear when I’m painting. 

I scratched my chin and as I did, I noted that my wrist actually hurt a little bit this morning. I frowned as I inspected the bruised flesh once more. It was more purple than blue today, and I wrinkled my nose slightly. Had Stephen really squeezed that hard? No. He wouldn’t have. 

A yawn escaped me, and I rubbed my face once more. Now what? I wondered. I was a hundredth percent certain of what to do now. I knew that Bliss wanted me to come back to her place, but wasn’t that... wrong, somehow?

I knew that that was what I wanted but wanting something didn’t necessarily mean doing it. If we drove to her place, it would officially be a cliché. I would be “hiding” at my “mistress’s” house. I bowed my head, but the gesture completely lacked shame. I wasn’t ashamed that Bliss was here. Nor was I ashamed over the night we had spent together. Perhaps I should be, but it was impossible to feel so, when I had been feeling so contend in her arms all night. 

I realized that tonight had been the first night we had slept together without... Sleeping together. And she had held me when I fell asleep. And I had still been in her arms when I woke up. I couldn’t remember the last time I had fallen asleep and woken up in someone’s arms. I had always considered myself to be the type who enjoyed having my own “space” in bed, but now I realized that I had been wrong. I did like closeness in bed. With the right person.

Last night I had felt the adrenaline rush around in my body, and I hadn’t been able to find rest, but this morning I simply felt drained. Completely and utterly. I had been tired before, but never quite like this. It felt as though the exhaustion was seeping into my bones and making my entire body heavy and unwilling. I remained sitting at the edge of the bed even though I probably should get dressed and get a move on. 

And do what, exactly? That was the problem. I didn’t know. I couldn’t get into my own home. Of course, I could always stay one more night at this hotel, but then what? I couldn’t live in a hotel for all eternity. I knew that Stephen didn’t want to see me, but eventually he would have to allow me back into the house so I could gather my belongings. 

Perhaps I should just call him, I mused. I doubted he would answer the call today, but we couldn’t avoid each other forever. Eventually, we had to talk. About the divorce. About the future. How things were gonna be. If he really did what I’ve had a nightmare about last night, and kept Lucas from me, I didn’t know what I was gonna do. The most obvious thing would be to go to court and fight for custody over Lucas, but could I really put my son through that? Was I really willing to let Lucas endure that? I had to think of the emotional costs. A custody battle was exhausting for everyone involved. Especially the child. Lucas wasn’t gonna benefit from seeing his parents fight over him like wild animals. 

And if he chooses to live with Stephen?

Easy. Then I would just have to suck it up. I refused to force Lucas into anything. No, this would be his choice. Perhaps it was unconventional, but I refused to put him through anything that was strictly necessary.

Perhaps Stephen and I can work something out. An arrangement. A way so both of us can see Lucas. Of course Lucas was gonna spend time with his father. That wasn’t up for discussion.

I sighed a little. There were so many things to discuss. But nothing could happen before I talked to Stephen. And suppose he’ll never talk to me again?

“Mmmm...”

I turned my head slightly and saw Bliss stir. She was clearly waking up. I saw her eyelids flutter slightly, and then she cracked one eye open and looked at me. “’Morning.”

“Good morning,” I said softly. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” Bliss replied and lifted her head from the pillow. “Did you... get any sleep at all?”

“I did actually,” I nodded. “I slept better than I had imagined.”

“I’m glad,” Bliss said, and the covers slipped some as she moved closer to me. “And how are you feeling today?”

“I’m not completely sure,” I said honestly. On the one hand, my affection for Bliss were almost spilling over, but on the other hand, I knew that the road to the life I wanted to have wasn’t gonna be a   
smooth one. There were so many things that still needed to fall into place, and however much I just wanted to go back to Bliss’ place and stay there, I couldn’t do that. I had things I needed to take care of. 

The bed dipped slightly as Bliss shuffled over to me. She gently brushed my hair away and then planted a light kiss on the side of my neck. 

“I want Lucas to hear it from me,” I whispered so quietly I couldn’t blame her for asking: “what?”

“I want Lucas to hear it from me,” I repeated, a bit louder this time. “I want to be the one to tell him.”

“I understand that,” Bliss mumbled. “You haven’t heard from him?”

“No,” I whispered. “And I still can’t reach him either. I hope it’s because he’s sleeping in, but-“

“I bet that’s the reason,” Bliss gently interrupted. 

“Yes, but what if it isn’t?” I said and my voice broke. “What if Stephen told him...” I paused and shook my head. “No. I don’t get to complain over that. If Stephen has told him... Then I would understand.”

“I wouldn’t,” Bliss said plainly. 

I silently considered it. Could Stephen had called Lucas yesterday and told him? 

He could. I had never seen Stephen quite so out of it as he had been last night, and more often than not, people tended to do things in the heat of the moment. 

“Come back to my place,” Bliss murmured as she lifted her head slightly. I could still feel her curls tickling my neck. 

“I don’t know...” I mumbled. I wanted to go back to her place. I was certain, things would feel so much easier if I were there instead of in this little hotel room, but at the same time, I felt as though I   
shouldn’t agree to going back to her place. 

“Where else will you go then?” Bliss asked softly. “You can’t stay here.” 

“No. Maybe I can go and live with my friends in Montpelier...” I said half-heartedly. I didn’t want to go to Montpelier. I had no doubt that both Delia and Tom would welcome me with open arms, but I wouldn’t feel good about invading their home now that Delia was pregnant and exhausted. And Montpelier was far away. I didn’t want more physical distance between Lucas and me. The farther away he was, the more panicked I would feel.

“This is gonna sound incredibly selfish, but please, please stay,” Bliss said earnestly, and her soft fingers intertwined with mine.

“You are not selfish,” I gently assured her. 

“Sure I am,” Bliss scoffed. “I’m literally begging you to stay here even though-“

“Bliss, you are the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” I firmly interrupted and squeezed her fingers.

“Not true.”

“Very true.”

Bliss touched my hand lightly. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” I admitted, slightly surprised over feeling hungry after having been nauseous for most of last night.

“Wanna check the hotel breakfast out?” Bliss asked.

I nodded. “I think I’ll just take a shower first if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Bliss said, and then she was touching my cheek gently once more. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She earned herself a smile at that, and I knew that she didn’t just mean now. “I’d ask you to come with me, but I’m afraid the shower is pretty small.”

Bliss laughed. “No problem. I’m sure we’ll get lots of opportunities to share a shower in the future.”

“I certainly hope so. Thank you for loaning me your shirt last night.” 

“Anytime. It suits you,” she said and flashed me a slight grin. 

I chuckled slightly, and then I grabbed yesterday’s clothing and went into the small bathroom. There really wasn’t a lot of room in here. The bathroom was small enough to make me feel slightly claustrophobic, and I hurried as I washed my body in the cheap hotel soap. I had to use the hotel’s own shampoo as well, and I knew that my hair would be a frizzy mess afterwards. 

I spend as little time in the bathroom as I possibly could, I brushed my teeth, and after toweling off, I cringed slightly as I put on yesterday’s clothes. Perhaps this wasn’t a traditional “morning after”, but I felt as though I had done this far too many times already. 

Bliss was indeed still sitting on the bed when I came back. She had tugged on the t-shirt I had slept in yesterday, and she smiled as I handed her the jeans she had left on the floor. 

“They’re crumpled,” I commented. 

“I don’t iron my clothes much,” she joked. 

“I do,” I admitted.

She sniggered. “Of course you do. I’m not even surprised.”

I chuckled softly and watched as she stepped into her jeans, zipped and then buttoned them. Her hair was very big and wild, and in my humble opinion she looked absolutely perfect. 

But she clearly didn’t think so herself. She reached and touched her hair, and then she wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. I look a mess, don’t I?”

“Definitely not,” I assured her. “You look beautiful.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “Give me two seconds in the bathroom.” She grabbed her bag, and with that she quickly scampered into the tiny bathroom.

I busied myself with checking my phone once more. Still nothing. I sort of already knew that. Bliss would have told me if someone had called, but still, I couldn’t help being a bit disappointed. I considered trying to reach Lucas once more, but I decided to text Delia instead. I told her about the newest “development”. Told her that Bliss had shown up unexpected last night. It didn’t long before my phone beeped. Delia expressed how happy she was that I wasn’t alone anymore, and then she asked if I had heard anything from Lucas. My heart sank slightly as I texted her back, telling her that I hadn’t heard anything from him. Or from Stephen from that matter. I put the phone down and perched myself on the edge of the bed. I couldn’t help but wonder what my husband was doing right now. Was he at home? Had he even slept last night? Or had he perhaps spend the entire night sitting in the darkness in his office? I cringed. That wasn’t healthy. There had been few times where he had ended up falling asleep in his office, and he had complained over his muscles being stiff the next morning. 

Sort of like my muscles were feeling today. I grimaced slightly as I rubbed a hard knot on the back of my neck. My back and neck was not grateful for the night I had spent in the hotel bed. I slowly rolled my head from side to side in an attempt to relieve some of the pain, but it didn’t really help much. 

I glanced at the phone again, but the screen was black. No new messages from anyone. Anxiety gnawed in my stomach once more as I for a moment allowed myself to envision what Stephen could have told Lucas. God, he could have said anything.

My train of thoughts were interrupted when Bliss came back into the room. I wasn’t completely sure how she had done it, but she had somehow tamed her wild curls. 

“Are you ready to go and have some breakfast?” she asked. 

“Yes. I’m ready,” I nodded. 

She shuffled closer to me, reached out but then dropped her hand, clearly hesitating. “Can I hold your hand?”

“I don’t think you have to ask,” I half-laughed as I took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. 

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

I laughed at the absurdity. And then we left the hotel room. None of us bothered to make the bed. 

************************

After having breakfast, Bliss once again suggested that we went back to her place. I was tired of pretending that I didn’t want to, and I didn’t know where else to go, so I said yes. 

Bliss beamed at my answer. “I promise I’ll make you as many cups of tea as you want.”

I chuckled. “Yes, that’s all it takes to make me happy. Plenty of tea.”

“And perhaps a few kisses,” Bliss added. 

I chuckled again and wished that I didn’t feel so bad about wanting to kiss her. My current situation was preventing me from fully being able to “give myself” to Bliss. My home life was far, far too messy for me to give in to other urges right now. 

We had reached the parking lot where Bliss’ car was parked slightly askew. 

“I’ll follow you in my car,” I said as I roamed through my purse to find my key. 

“Alright. A pity we can’t drive together, though.”

“Yes, but I don’t think I’d like leaving my car here,” I said and frowned. 

She chuckled amusedly at that, and then she entered her own little yellow bug of a car.

As she left the parking lot in her car, I climbed into mine and inserted the key into the ignition. I quickly checked my phone, but there was still no new messages or missed calls. 

I sighed a little as I steered the car out of the parking lot. Tried to ignore the way anxiety gnawed in my stomach. It’s still early. Lucas could still be sleeping.

I felt relieved the moment I pulled up in front of Bliss’ house. Her place felt like a safe haven, and the claustrophobic feeling I had been experiencing in the hotel room, lifted. It felt like some of the weight had been lifted from me. Obviously, not all of it. There still was a certain weight that couldn’t be lifted until.... Until I had talked things through with my son and Stephen. That was the only thing that really could give me peace in mind. 

But for right now, this was enough. 

I smiled as I exited the car. Bliss greeted me the moment I had closed the car door. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” I said, and warmth spread through my body as she took my hand when we walked across her lawn to get into the house. 

“The place’s missed you,” Bliss quipped as we ascended the few steps up her porch.

“I’ve missed this place too,” I openly admitted. “You have a lovely home.” 

“Not my home,” Bliss reminded me and grinned over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and swung it open with a grand gesture. 

“Oh right,” I nodded. I remembered her remark about how she was renting this house from one of her aunts’ friends. 

“But you’re right, it’s a great place,” Bliss said and toed her shoes off. 

“I wouldn’t mind living at a place like this someday,” I mused a bit absentmindedly as I wiggled out of my own shoes and then walked into her sitting room. Her long haired, fuzzy carpet greeted my stocking clad feet, and I reveled in the feeling. That too felt safe. 

“Alone?”

“Pardon?” I answered a bit distracted. I was in the middle of admiring a bowl on the coffee table. I hadn’t seen that bowl before, and I wondered if it was that bowl, she had been working on in the basement that night. 

“Would you like to live on your own? I mean, with your son, obviously.”

It was very sweet, how she automatically included Lucas in the sentence, and another twinge of anxiety coursed through my stomach. What if Stephen doesn’t agree to joint custody? I forced myself to snap out of it, and then thought of the meaning behind Bliss’ question. A small smile blossomed on my lips. 

“You know, someday it would be nice to have a... roommate,” I said conspiratorially. 

“Really?”

“Mmm.” I allowed myself to envision it. Saying goodnight to Bliss and pecking her lips as the last thing every night. Waking up and seeing her sleepy smile as the first thing in the morning. I could only   
imagine how wonderful that would be.

Then I shook my head. What was I doing planning a completely different life when things were still so... messy and chaotic? I shouldn’t be doing that. 

Warm fingers closing gently around my wrist brought me back to the here and now. “Where did you go?” Bliss asked softly. 

“Many places,” I said truthfully and shook my head slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Ella,” Bliss scoffed. “Think as long and as hard as you need to. As long as you don’t upset yourself.”

That made me chuckle slightly again. 

“Do you need anything? Some more breakfast? Tea? Some-“

“No, it’s fine,” I gently interrupted. 

“How about a snuggle session on the couch then?” Bliss suggested.

I raised an eyebrow. “A snuggle session?”

“Mmm.”

“And what exactly is a ‘snuggle session’?”

Bliss laughed as she gave my hand a soft tug to guide me towards the couch. “Come. I’ll show you.”

I soon learned exactly what a “snuggle session” was. It turned out to be both of us huddled together on the couch. Bliss was resting her head on my shoulder and gently caressed the soft spot between my thumb and index finger. She didn’t say much, she just allowed me to sit there and think. The silence was in no way uncomfortable, though. Even though none of us were saying much, I had never felt anyone be as present as Bliss was right now. Occasionally, she would kiss my cheek, just to remind me that she was still there, but never anything more than that. A part of me wanted more, but I had already decided that it wouldn’t be today. Not until I had sorted things out properly. One thing at the time. 

I allowed my thoughts to drift in every direction. Some of those directions were negative and catastrophic, and some of them were wearily hopeful. It was so difficult, being hopeful about the future one minute, and then dreading it the next. I was afraid of fully living the life I knew I should be living. I was afraid of losing my son in the process. 

“What if I’ll never see him again?” I asked quietly. “What if he won’t accept this?”

Bliss gave my hand a soft squeeze again. Obviously, she already knew who I was talking about. “You may be divorcing his dad, but you’ll always be Lucas’ mother, Ella. Nothing can ever change that. And he’d want to see you happy, wouldn’t he? Maybe everything else has changed, but your love for him hasn’t.”

To my horror, I felt hot tears prickle in my eyes. I quickly lifted a hand to wipe them away. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Ella,” Bliss said softly as she gently wiped my tears away. 

“Why am I always crying when I’m with you,” I tried to joke. 

“Because you trust me,” Bliss said simply. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? I could add a dash of whiskey to your cup of tea.”

I spluttered slightly at that suggestion. “Tea with whiskey? I’ve never tried that before, and I’m not sure I’m quite bold enough to try it now, to be honest.”

“That’s alright. Another time then.”

“Mmm, another time,” I echoed, and those two words made me feel warm again. Another time with Bliss. Another opportunity to hear her laugh, see her smile. Keep her company in the basement while she worked on a new bowl. I reached out and touched the one on the coffee table.

“D’ya like it?” Bliss asked hopefully.

“Of course I do,” I assured. “It’s beautiful.”

Bliss exhaled as she leaned back in the sofa. “You know, I would love to own a store and be able to sell the pottery I make.”

“And give me one good reason why that shouldn’t be a possibility someday,” I said. “You’re talented. And you’re young. You can do whatever you want.”

“So can you.” 

“Yes, I’m beginning to realize that,” I said and laughed a little again. It was never too late to change your life. And it was never too late to re-discover yourself. 

“Do you have any idea how crazy I am about you?” Bliss asked plainly as she brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. 

“I’m beginning to realize that too,” I laughed. 

Time was a very vague concept as we sat huddled together on her sofa and talked. Some of the things were less serious. I encouraged her to talk about herself. We had talked far too much about me already, and after a few nudges, Bliss began talking. I heard about her childhood, her studies in Chicago, how she had met and had her heart broken by the much older Laura. Bliss’ voice was a bit bitter as she breached that subject, and even though I didn’t know all the details, I felt angry at Laura for having hurt Bliss. When I half-embarrassed admitted that, Bliss chuckled, kissed my cheek and told me that it was a chapter of her life that was over with. She was more than ready for a new and better chapter. 

Then she spoke of how she had wanted to travel for a while now. See something else. I could more than understand that. She wasn’t the only one with wanderlust. After thirteen years of not seeing much else besides Vermont, I was more than ready for a new adventure. 

“If you could choose any destination... Where would you go?” Bliss asked.

“Paris,” I said in a heartbeat. Ever since the honeymoon-that-didn’t-happen, I had been dreaming about going to Paris, but I had never gotten the chance. There had always been something that had prevented us from going. 

“I’ve never been to Paris,” Bliss said as she leaned her head against my shoulder once more. 

“Well...” I laughed slightly. “Who knows, perhaps one day-“

The last of the sentence was successfully drowned in the screeching, shrill sound coming from my phone. Both Bliss and I jumped slightly at the sudden interruption, and then I reached and picked the phone up from the coffee table. My breath completely hitched when I saw the “Lucas calling...” notification on the screen, and for a moment it felt as though all blood rushed away from my head. I felt completely lightheaded. “Oh god.”

“Answer it,” Bliss said gently. 

“What am I gonna tell him?” 

“Why don’t you let it depend on what he has to say?” Bliss suggested and kissed my cheek once more. 

“Alright. Alright, I can do that. I think.” I glided a finger over the screen. “H-hello?”

“Mum?” Lucas said in the other end. “Are you okay?!”

“I- yes,” I said a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. I’m fine. Are you okay, honey? You sound completely out of breath. I hope the message I left didn’t scare you.” 

“It didn’t until this morning,” Lucas said in the other end. “And I’m sorry for not answering, by the way. My phone was dead, and I’d forgotten the charger at home, and you know that Trevor’s charger isn’t the same as mine, so....”

“Oh,” I said and nodded. So there was a rational explanation after all. 

“But what’s going on?!” Lucas asked, now sounding slightly panicked again. 

“What do you mean, honey?” 

“Well, as soon as I came home, dad told me that he would drive up to grandma and stay there for a couple of days, he wanted me to come with him, but I said I couldn’t because of school, and when I asked him where you were, he just said that you’d left and he didn’t know where you were! What’s happening?!”

“Lucas, breathe,” I said gently. “How long is it since your dad left?” 

“He left an hour ago. Ish. But why did he leave? What’s happening? Where are you? Are you with Delia?”

“No, honey. I’m not with Delia today,” I said truthfully. I didn’t know what angered me the most. The fact that Stephen had tried to make Lucas come to Ludlow with him, or the fact that he seemingly had   
had no qualms about leaving our thirteen year old son home alone and confused.

“Should I call dad and ask him to come home?” Lucas asked confused. “Or should-“

“No, I’ll call your dad,” I assured and pushed myself up from the sofa. “I’d like you to stay put until I come home, alright? It won’t be long.”

“Okay,” Lucas said, and I could hear that he was fearing the worst already. “See you soon, then.”

“Yes, see you, honey.” I said and barely kept my voice steady as I ended the call and slid the phone into the pocket of my blazer. I tiredly rubbed a hand over my face. Now I would have to go home and   
explain everything to my son. And I wasn’t completely sure on how to do that. Maybe he’ll hate me when I tell him the truth. 

“Well?” Bliss gently inquired as she put a hand on my arm. 

“Stephen has driven up to his mother’s place in Ludlow. Lucas is home alone and very, very confused. I have to get back to him.”

“Of course you do,” Bliss said immediately. “You don’t have to explain.” 

I brushed invisible dust off my slacks. “I’m going to tell him everything. The longer I keep the truth from him... The worse everything will be. It’s about time I’m honest with him.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Bliss offered. 

I gaped slightly. “You would do that?” 

“Of course I would.”

I couldn’t deny that it would have been nice to have her there with me, but... “No,” I said quietly. “I don’t think that’s...”

“I get it,” Bliss said. She squeezed my hand tightly once more. “But you’ll call me afterwards, right? I want to be sure that you’re okay. And if you ever need a place-“

“I know,” I gently interrupted. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

I tried to laugh but ended up admitting: “I’m scared to death.”

“Of course you are,” Bliss said as she engulfed me in a hug. 

“Tell me everything is gonna be alright,” I murmured into her neck. 

“It will,” Bliss whispered as she gently raked her fingers up and down my back. “Maybe not right now, but at some point, you’ll stop and think about how well everything is going. How good you feel. How good it feels to be happy.”

“Do you always know exactly what to say?” I asked her. 

“Rarely. I kinda... make it up as I go.”

“Perhaps I should try that sometimes,” I said and once again tried to laugh. I failed once more and ended up making a choked sobbing sound instead. It took at least five minutes before I was in any state to leave. 

Upon coming home, I was greeted by a very confused Lucas in the hallway. He even hugged me before saying anything else. 

I hugged him too. God, how I hugged him! I never wanted to let go of him again, but being the teenager he was, he quickly pulled back and then asked: “what’s going on?”

I purposefully avoided the question for now. “Have you had enough breakfast, honey? Do you want me to whip up something for you?”

“No, I just want to know what’s happening, please!” Lucas said. “Why did dad leave? Where have you been?”

“I’ve been at Anchorage Inn,” I said truthfully as I put my hand on his shoulder to guide him into the sitting room. 

“The hotel?” Lucas asked and his eyebrow rose. “Why? Why have you been at a hotel?”

“Come on, honey. Let’s sit down for a second,” I said as I steered him towards the sofa. 

He plopped down on the sofa. “Fine. We’re sitting down. Now please explain what the hell-“

“Lucas.”

“What on earth is going on,” he corrected himself. “Seriously, mum, what’s happening?!”

I shifted to rest one ankle on top of the other. Then I brushed a hand over my slacks again. My palms were sweaty, and yet I felt like shivering from head to toe. My pulse was hammering in my ears. My   
throat felt as though it had been stuffed with wool. 

“Are you sick? Is dad sick?” Lucas asked wildly. “Is that what’s going on?!”

“No,” I said firmly. “I can assure you, sweetie, neither your father nor myself are ill. We’re fine.” at least physically. 

He looked relieved for a second, but then he grew serious again. “Then what?”

I took a deep breath. “Well... The thing is... The thing is that...” I swallowed, cleared my throat and then tried again: “your dad and I...” but I couldn’t finish that sentence either. I could just watch as my son’s face completely fell. 

Lucas shifted on the sofa and his voice was small when he asked: “you guys are splitting up, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said honestly. I couldn’t keep stuttering my way through countless attempts at telling him. It was better to just... say it. 

“But... But why?” Lucas asked and his lower lip quivered slightly. “I know that you guys don’t really... spend that much time together, but can’t you... see someone? Talk to someone about it? Isn’t that what some married people do when they want to split up?”

“You mean seeing a marriage counsellor?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

I reached out and gently put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m afraid that seeing a marriage counsellor wouldn’t help, sweetie. This is not... This is not something that can be fixed through talk.”

Lucas looked at me. “What happened?” his blue eyes narrowed. “Did dad cheat on you?! Is that the reason why you left-“

“No, sweetie. It’s not because of something your father did,” I quickly said. “It was something that I did.”

“And what did you...”

“I’ve fallen in love with someone,” I said truthfully. 

Lucas’s jaw snapped shut, and I could see a myriad of emotions reflected in his eyes. Anger. Hurt. Sadness. Betrayal. Confusion. He shifted on the sofa so my hand was no longer resting on his shoulder, and for a moment it looked as though anger was taking over and he would leave the sitting room, but when he spoke, his voice was small, and he seemed much younger than thirteen: “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t either in the beginning, sweetie,” I said quietly, and my voice was thick with emotions. “It started out as nothing, and I’ve been in denial for a long time, but along the way I’ve realized some things about myself. Things I can’t just pretend doesn’t exist.”

“And what are those things?” Lucas asked. His eyebrows were knitted together, and he kept opening and closing his hands. 

“I’m attracted to women,” I said. My pulse was still hammering in my ears, and my heart thrummed uncomfortably in my chest. Now I had said it out loud. And the words weren’t hollow. They meant something. God, how they meant something!

Now Lucas was blushing ferociously. “So, the person you’ve fallen in love with is a...?”

“A woman, yes,” I confirmed. 

More emotions flashed across Lucas’ face. More hurt. More betrayal. And then newfound anger. 

I didn’t say anything. I let him sit and consume what I had said, and my heart broke as I watched how his forehead wrinkled and his lower lip quivered with emotions he wouldn’t let come to light. For a moment he wasn’t Lucas the teenager. He was the little boy I had hurried after when he had taken his first steps. The little boy I had carried around on my hip. The little boy I had read stories to every night and held when he had a nightmare. This was a very different kind of nightmare for him, and one I couldn’t soothe no matter how much I wanted to. 

I reached out and touched his shoulder gently. “Lucas....”

He immediately shied away from my touch, and the look he shot me was both angry and confused. “What does that- are you... Are you...?”

“Yes,” I said, knowing full well what he was asking me. “Yes, I’m gay, Lucas.”

There was only anger left when he jumped up from the sofa. “Then how can you- how could you marry dad if you’re.... Why did you have me?!”

I rose from the sofa too, and despite how he had shrugged my hand away a second ago, I put my hands on his shoulders: “I want you to listen to me, alright? You are without the best thing that has ever happened to me! Nothing and nobody can change that. You are, and will always be my first priority, I want to give you the whole world, but I also want to be the best possible role model for you, and how can I be that if I don’t follow my heart?” I squeezed his shoulders slightly. “How much I love you have nothing to do with my feelings for Bliss, I’ll always be your mother no matter wh-“

“Bliss?!” he interrupted and once again wiggled out of my grasp. “Bliss?! You mean that girl I met that day she was here?! That’s who you’ve....” he couldn’t even finish the sentence. 

I swallowed. I hadn’t meant to say Bliss’ name. It had just slipped out of me. “Luca-“

“How old is she even?!” Lucas exploded. 

“Sweetie-“ 

“Don’t!” he yelled. “Don’t try to explain what’s going on, mum! I already know what’s going on! You’re leaving dad for someone’s who’s...”

“Lucas, it’s not like that!” I desperately tried to explain while hot tears prickled in my eyes. “Please, just... just sit down so we can talk about this.”

“No way!” he said as he backed away from me. “I’m done talking!”

“Lucas, please!” once again, I reached, but this time I didn’t even get to touch him before he had ducked away from my touch. 

“Don’t!” he said again, and his voice was hard as steel. “Just... Just leave me ALONE!” he turned around and before I could even attempt to follow him, he was running upstairs, and I heard his door slam. 

“Lucas, please!” I said desperately, even though he couldn’t hear me. I wanted to rush after him and knock on his door until he let me in, but something stopped me. “Leave me alone”, he had said. I had   
to respect his wish even though it hurt like hell. 

I sank back in the sofa and pressed a fist against my mouth. New tears spilled onto my cheeks. Had I just lost my son? Had I just lost the most important thing in my life? No. No. I can’t lose him. I’ll go right up there and take everything back. I’ll tell him that nothing will change. Everything will be like it was. 

But I knew I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t keep pretending. I had to be truthful to myself. 

But what if it means that I lose everything?

I rushed into the bathroom and switched the water on so Lucas couldn’t hear that I was crying.


	30. Chapter Thirty

It took twenty minutes before I had calmed down enough to lift my head and look at myself in the mirror. My eyes were now red-rimmed and puffy, and my nose was red too. I found a couple of Kleenex in the cabinet above the sink. Then I carefully dabbed underneath my eyes in an attempt to relieve some of the puffiness. It didn’t help much, though. I blew my nose. Sniffled some. Threw the Kleenexes into the little rubbish bin. I switched the water off and straightened my posture a bit. My eyes looked a bit glassy, and my throat was slightly sore from crying. I coughed hoarsely in an attempt to clear my throat. That didn’t help either. I ran a couple of fingers through my hair, brushed dust off my blouse. Then I left the bathroom and padded into the hallway. My feet felt heavy as I walked up the stairs. As I reached the second floor, I quickly noted how quiet the hallway where. On the one hand I was relieved that Lucas seemingly wasn’t throwing stuff around, but on the other hand, the silence was eerily. 

I was quiet too as I walked down the hallway. The only thing I could hear as I reached the door to Luca’s room, was my heart still hammering in my chest. My hand trembled as I lifted it and quietly knocked on Lucas’ door once. 

No reaction. Just complete silence. 

I tried again. Knocked twice this time.

Still no reaction. 

My throat constricted painfully. It felt like a massive cotton ball had gotten stuck. Try again, I silently ordered myself. You have to try again.

Knock-knock-knock. 

Still no reaction. My knocking was only met by a wall of silence. 

My eyes were burning again, but I pulled myself together and forced myself to remain rooted to the spot instead of seeking refuge in the bathroom. 

“Lucas?” I said quietly.

No answer. Just silence.

“Lucas?” I tried again. “Lucas, please.”

Silence. 

“Honey?” I said quietly and tried to keep the hysteria out of my voice. “Please open the door so we can talk about this.”

My request was met by more silence. 

“P-please?” I whispered. My fingers wrapped around the doorknob, but upon pressing it down, I quickly realized that the door was locked. Lucas never locked his door. New tears prickled in my eyes. First,   
I was evicted from my home, and now Lucas had effectively shut me out. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. 

“Lucas, please.”

“Go away!”

His voice was thicker than normally, and it had little to do with how his voice was currently breaking and gradually changing. He was crying. My son was crying. Every instinct in me told me to break the door down this instant and rush in there and hug him. 

But even if I’ve had the physical strength to break his door down, I wouldn’t have done it. If he didn’t want to see me, I had to respect that. Even though it made my chest ache. 

Perhaps that was what prompted me to try again. “Lucas, honey...”

“No!” he said croakily, and I heard a wet sound following the word. “Just... Just go away. I don’t wanna talk to you.”

His voice was steel and frost, and every word felt like a stab wound straight to my heart. Go away. I don’t wanna talk to you. It felt as though everything that was holding me together was shattering. I desperately clenched my jaw to avoid sobbing. Lucas didn’t need that right now. He was grieving in a manner. He didn’t need to overhear his mother having a hysterical outburst. 

“Okay,” I said quietly and tried to pull myself together. “I’ll leave you alone. But I’ll be right downstairs if you need to talk, alright?”

No answer.

“I love you, Lucas,” I said and bit another sob back. 

No response.

I turned around and headed back towards the stairs. I couldn’t keep standing outside his room and knock on his door and beg him to talk to me. I had to respect that he didn’t want to see me right now. 

I sniffled quietly once more as I went downstairs. My vision blurred and blinded me, and I had to stop and wipe my eyes. 

Perhaps I had been naïve. All those stories I had read online, described how coming out had felt like a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders, but it certainly didn’t feel that way for me. If anything, it felt like everything had gotten more complicated. Stephen was at his mother’s, most likely telling her all about what an awful witch I was. Lucas had sealed himself off in his room and didn’t want to talk to me.

Was this really the price? Did finding myself mean that I had to lose my son in the process? No. No, I can’t do that. But I couldn’t just shove who I was aside, either. I couldn’t just say “you know what, never mind”. This wasn’t something that could or should be ignored. This was who I was. 

But if I lose everything?

I sat down heavily on the couch. If I continued to see Bliss, there was every chance that Lucas would hate me, but if I gave up Bliss, I would be miserable. I sniffled again. For a moment I almost wished that   
I had never started that art class, but I quickly came to my senses. Never meeting Bliss? That would be absolutely horrible.

Bliss. I had promised to call her to let her know how it went. She wanted to know if I were okay. I sniffled. I was not okay.

But a promise was a promise. Bliss was waiting for me to call her. It wouldn’t be fair of me to not call her. And texting instead of calling didn’t seem right either. I took a deep breath, tried to pull myself together, and then I found my phone in my pocket. My fingers trembled as I dialed Bliss’ number, but I didn’t do a very good job at composing myself. By the time I heard the familiar dialing tone, my throat felt constricted and my eyes were burning again.

“Ella?”

For one brief, blessed moment the only thing I felt was relief when I heard her voice. For a fracture of a second, I felt as though perhaps everything would be okay, but then the sharp edges of reality cut me once again, and my throat felt more constricted than ever. 

“Ella, are you there?”

“I told him,” I whispered.

“And?” Bliss said gently in the other end. 

“He locked himself in his room. He doesn’t want to talk to me.” My voice trembled more than ever. 

“Oh, Ella,” Bliss said, and I could the emotions in her voice too.

“He wants nothing to do with me!” my voice broke, and I completely fell apart at that. I had to leave the sitting room and lock myself in the bathroom once more. I switched the water on again to make sure that Lucas couldn’t hear what was going on.

“I-I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I always end up come crying to you!”

“Ella, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Bliss said firmly. “I hate that you’re this upset. Did Lucas say anything at all?”

“Just that he wanted me to leave him alone,” I whispered. “And he... he asked me why I’d married his father. And why I.... had him. He insinuated that I regretted having him.” Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. 

“He didn’t mean that,” Bliss said immediately. “He’s angry. He’s confused. And he’s lashing out because of it. In the heat of the moment, people say many things.”

“I’m so afraid I’ve lost him,” I said hoarsely. “That he’ll never... That he’ll never accept me. Accept us.”

“Give him time,” Bliss said softly, and I imagined her walking back and forward as we talked. “Give him a little time and space to digest what you’ve said.”

“It’s what he does with that space that worries me,” I sniffled. “What if he suddenly decides that he hates me?”

“No,” Bliss said plainly. “I refuse to believe that. Of course he reacts here and now, but on a long term basis? No. He won’t hate you.”

“How can you be so s-sure?” I sobbed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. 

“Because you’re his mother,” Bliss said simply. 

“I wish I could be as sure as you are,” I said and tried to chuckle, but the sound came out wetly. 

“And I wish I could be with you right now and give you a hug,” Bliss said softly in the other end. 

“That would have been n-nice.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Bliss asked. “Just say the word and I’ll be there.”

Every fiber in my body wanted to say yes! But I knew I couldn’t do that. No matter how much I wanted it, Bliss couldn’t be here right now. 

“I wish you could,” I murmured. “I really, really do. But I don’t think that today-“

“I understand,” Bliss said immediately. “But I’m here if you need me. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I confirmed. God, I was so full of conflicted feelings. Like my heart had been split into two. One piece occupied all the endless love I had for Lucas, while the other piece was overflowing with fondness for Bliss. More than anything, I wanted to unite those two pieces. To have my love for Lucas and my fondness for Bliss living peacefully side by side. Was that even possible? Right now I wasn’t so sure. 

“Ella?”

“I have to go,” I whispered. “I can’t talk anymore right now. I need to-“

“Of course,” Bliss said, even though she couldn’t possibly know what the end of that sentence was gonna be. “But I’m only a phone call away. And I’ll pick up no matter how late it is. If there’s anything...   
Anything at all, call me, alright?”

“Alright.”

“I’m here if you need me,” Bliss reminded me once more.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Bye, Bliss.”

“I lo-“

I ended the call before she could say anything else. I had a faint inkling of what the end of that sentence was gonna be, but I knew that right now wasn’t the time nor place for that.

My head felt heavy, and I felt completely lost. I didn’t know what to do now. All my daily life purposes seemed so unimportant now. How was I supposed to do anything when my son had shielded himself off in his room? 

I wanted to take permanent refugee outside his door, but once again I reminded myself to respect his wishes. He didn’t want to see me right now.

I turned the water off and left the bathroom. I ended up in the sitting room where I began pacing up and down the floor. My head was a mess and overflowing with confused thoughts. Once in a while I forced myself to stop pacing, and then I listened. Listened for any signs of movement from Lucas’ room. But I never heard anything. Just the same wall of silence that had been greeting me earlier. 

****************

Thirty minutes crept by.

An hour. 

I sat on the sofa. The television was switched on, but I had no idea what sort of program was running over the screen. I kept shifting uneasily, constantly believing that I had heard the staircase creak, but every time I turned around, there was no one behind me. 

My eyes stung because of how many tears I already had shed today. 

It became lunch time. 

I went upstairs and quietly knocked on Lucas’ door, hoarsely asking him what he wanted to have for lunch. There was still no answer. I tried knocking again, repeating my question, but still no response.  
I went back downstairs. I didn’t eat anything either. I was nauseous and afraid that any food I would eat, would come right back up.

Another hour rolled by. I was beginning to wonder what I was gonna do if he didn’t came out of his room today. At one point I leapt from my seat and rushed into the backyard to check if his window was still closed. There had been times where he had joked about escaping through the window. 

But his window was still closed, and the grass showed no signs of having been trampled down. He was still in his room. But I didn’t feel at all soothed by it. 

Another thirty minutes crept by. It occurred to me that I should probably text Delia to let her know what was happening, but I felt too emotionally drained to explain anything to anyone. I had done nothing but explaining myself to everyone these past couple of days, and with what result? 

I was tired. I was just so damn tired. 

I wanted Bliss. I wanted to feel her arms around me. I wanted to hear her tell me that everything was gonna be alright. 

As the thirty minutes turned into sixty, and there was still no signs of Lucas, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number. Not Bliss’ or Delia’s, but Stephen’s. Right now, none of the things Stephen had said to me, mattered. Lucas needed his father right now.

But Stephen didn’t answer either. Another person who didn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t blame him for not answering my call. I left a message on his voicemail. A very honest one. I told him that I had told Lucas the truth, and that our son needed his father. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered. 

I put the phone down and waited.

Nothing happened. 

Ten minutes passed. 

Fifteen. 

Twenty. 

A half an hour. 

Thirty minutes became sixty. 

Stephen didn’t call me back. 

Dinner time crept by just as fast as lunch time had. Once more, I went upstairs. Knocked on Lucas’ door. Asked him what he wanted to eat for dinner. 

No response. 

I didn’t knock a second time. Instead I went back downstairs and opened the fridge. Stared blankly before quickly realizing that I had no appetite. I settled for a cup of tea, but where the hot beverage normally would have felt calming, it didn’t today. 

The sky began to darken, and a part of me wanted to go for a run. I needed to run. Run faster than I ever had before.

But I didn’t go anywhere. I couldn’t. Not when Lucas was going through this. 

My muscles felt stiff when I finally rose from the couch. The living room was pitch black. I had no idea what time it was, but it felt like going to bed was a good idea. Even though I doubted that I would get any sleep at all tonight.

On my way to the bedroom, I stopped at Lucas’ bedroom. I felt horrible. I hadn’t seen him all day. I had no idea what was going on in his head. He wouldn’t let me hug him or comfort him. 

I softly knocked on his door. “Lucas? I just wanted to say that I’m going to bed now.”

No answer. 

“But if you need to talk...” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Still no answer. 

“Okay,” I said quietly. I probably should have understood the message long ago. He didn’t want to talk to me. “Goodnight, honey. I love you.”

Silence. 

Was it even possible for me to cry anymore? My eyes almost felt raw, and they burned as new tears prickled. I hurried down the hallway and closed the door to my bedroom. Mechanically, I took off my clothes and traded it for one of my pajamas. Then I slipped into bed without an ounce of hope of actually falling asleep.

And I didn’t. The bedroom was pitch black, but my eyes were wide open. I stared at the darkness without seeing anything. It was impossible to think that I had spent last night peacefully asleep in Bliss’ arms. It seemed so long ago. A dream. A wonderful, hopeless dream. 

I turned my head and looked at the spot on the nightstand where I knew my phone was laying. Stephen hadn’t called me back. I doubted that he had forgotten his charger. He never forgot his charger. 

No, there could be only one explanation: he didn’t want to talk to me. While I fully understood that, I still wondered. I had called and asked him to come home for Lucas’ sake. Not my own. And yet he hadn’t reacted. He hadn’t reacted to the fact that his son needed him. And honestly, that puzzled me. Because when he kicked me out of the house two days ago, he had seemed very focused on the fact that I wouldn’t get an opportunity to talk to our son. But then he had taken off without Lucas. He hadn’t reacted to the message I had left him, in which I had stated that Lucas needed him. What was all about? We’ve argued badly, yes, things were gonna change between us, yes. But our changing relationship shouldn’t have any influence on the fact that our son always came first. For both of us. Why else would Stephen insist that Lucas should be enrolled in a school in Boston? He wanted to be close to his son. 

So, why was it that Stephen hadn’t called me back and informed me that he was on his way home? Or, better still, here already? Didn’t he... Didn’t he care about Lucas?

Of course he did. I was the one who was ruining the family. I was the reason Stephen had left. I was the reason why Lucas had barricaded himself in his room all day and refused to talk to me. Everything was my fault.

I rolled onto my other side and pulled the covers more tightly around myself. But no amount of cover could protect me from the heart ache I was feeling. I shivered slightly under the covers. Perhaps I had reached a point where I was having a physical reaction to what was happening. It certainly felt like it. I kept hearing Lucas’ words in my head over and over again. Just go away. I don’t wanna talk to you.

Despite Bliss’ encouraging words, it was hard not to believe that I hadn’t lost him. What if this was how things were gonna be between us from now on? Him shutting me out for good and refusing to ever talk to me again. I imagined him coldly telling me that he would leave to go to that school in Boston. He would move out of the house. Refuse to come home on visits. I imagined how he would gradually stop answering the phone when I called. How our contact would become more and more sporadic, and then vanish entirely. He would go from being a teenager to a young man. Find his own place to live. 

Far away from me. Because I had ruined his life. Because I had broken up the family.

I sniffled quietly once more. Bit the inside of my cheek because of the way my eyes were burning. It hurt. My cheeks stung as fresh tears spilled onto them. I briefly wondered if it was possible to get dehydrated from crying. 

Just go away. I don’t wanna talk to you. 

Lucas leaving. Lucas informing me that he didn’t want to live with me anymore. Lucas telling me that I had ruined everything. That what I had done to his father was unforgiveable. 

I turned my head, so my sniffles were muffled by the pillow. I wish Bliss was here. I wish she could be here to hold me and assure me that everything will be fine. That I did the right thing. Right now, it didn’t feel like the right thing. Nothing felt right. I rolled onto my other side. Wiped my cheek aggressively. I was so sick of crying. I was so sick of everything. 

New tears fell from my eyes and stained the pillow. I shifted again, so I was lying flat on my back and staring at the pitch black ceiling once more. My cheeks were still stinging. They were completely dried out. I should have rubbed them with some of that cream I always used before bedtime, but I hadn’t stuck to the usual routine tonight. I had even forgotten to brush my teeth. I had just stumbled into bed. 

And with what intention? Sleep was most definitely out of the question tonight, even though I was exhausted. I was getting a headache, and judging by the intensity, it was gonna be a bad one. I had most likely forgotten to drink water today. Perhaps I was dehydrated after all.

I don’t know how long I laid there and stared at the ceiling. It felt like hours, but it could very well have just been a couple of minutes. Either way, I eventually gave up and slipped out of bed. What was the point of staying in bed when I couldn’t sleep anyway?

I tiptoed out in the hallway. The dark house was completely quiet. Eerily quiet. I didn’t even switch the lights on in the bathroom. I had no desire to see my own reflection. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I bathed my poor, swollen eyes and then carefully dabbed my stinging cheeks. It helped a little, but certainly not much. 

I didn’t go back to bed. Instead I went downstairs and curled up on the couch once more. I didn’t switch on the television or the light. I just sat there. I briefly wondered whether I should make myself a cup of tea, but the idea was quickly nixed. My stomach didn’t seem to agree with anything. Not even tea. 

My imagination went into overdrive. I suddenly imagined Stephen coming home in a rage and demanding that I left immediately. And this time he wouldn’t let me come back to the house. As far as he was concerned, I was done being a mother to Lucas. I didn’t deserve him. 

I swallowed something. My throat felt tight all over again. My phone was still lying upstairs. For a moment I was tempted to go upstairs, grab it and then text Bliss. She had said that I could reach out at any time. 

Bliss is asleep. I imagined her curled up in her bed underneath the yellow wall, wearing a long t-shirt with some silly cartoon motive, and her wild curls sticking out. What if I lose her too? What if she came to the realization that this was far, far too messy for her? That wouldn’t be an outrageous thing to decide. Bliss was this calm, laid back person who just seemed to go with the flow. What interest could she have in seeing a woman who was facing a messy divorce and a possible custody battle? 

She deserves better. Bliss deserves so much better. I knew what Bliss had gone through with Michelle, the woman she was seeing before me. I shouldn’t be putting her through this. It’s not fair to her. It’s not fair at all.

I was so sick of crying, but it was hard not to as I imagined myself sitting alone in a tiny flat. Everyone had turned their back on me. I had nobody left. My life was ruined. 

I sniffled. Quietly at first, in an attempt to keep my emotions at bay, but it didn’t take long before the muffled sniffles turned into choked back sobs. Everything within me ached as I kept seeing the way Lucas had looked at me. First with confusion in his eyes, disbelief, and then rage. What was gonna happen tomorrow? What was I supposed to do tomorrow when he still refused to come out of his room? He couldn’t stay in there without eating or drinking anything. I would have to try and reach his father again. And if he wouldn’t pick up, I would have to call my mother-in-law. If anyone could get through to Stephen, it was her. It was a desperate act, but I couldn’t just let Lucas stay cooped up in his room. Something had to be done. 

To think I was the reason he was cooped up in there. That I had caused him this emotional distress. How could I do anything but hate myself? 

Just go away! I don’t wanna talk to you!

I buried my face in my hands and tried to muffle the emotions I couldn’t keep at bay anymore. I had ruined everything. Maybe it was true. Maybe I didn’t deserve Lucas. How could I possibly be worthy of him? It was my fault that he had sounded close to tears earlier this morning. I had disrupted his life completely. I had ruined that precious stability he had enjoyed so far, and most of all I had ruined the expectation all kids his age should have. That mum was mum no matter what. Never changing. Always the same. The same, unshakeable person nothing and no one could rock. And I was deeply upset that I had to change his image of me. That I had to take everything he believed in, and then crush it. What kind of mother does that?

Had I been selfish? Had I only been focusing on myself? Had I only been thinking about what coming out would mean for me? Had I forgotten that this was something that affected the entire family? 

No, I hadn’t. I had thought of everything. At least I thought I had. Or perhaps I had just been terribly naïve and imagined that Lucas wouldn’t take my news badly. Perhaps a silly, ridiculous part of me had expected him to be alright with this.

I should go back to bed. This is not helping anything. Tomorrow would be another hard day, and it definitely wouldn’t improve the situation if I was on the brink of passing out because I was sleep deprived. Tomorrow I had to be strong for Lucas. Tomorrow I would have to find some way to get through to him. I wasn’t completely sure how, but something had to be done. This couldn’t go on. He had to come out of his room. If not to talk to me, then to eat something. 

Strong. Tomorrow I had to be strong. Strong. I sniffled into my hands. And how was I supposed to be that when I felt everything but? I felt weak, so weak. Like I had nothing left to give. Like all my strength had been used. Emotionally and physically drained. I didn’t know where that strength was gonna come from. How am I supposed to be strong for my son when I can’t even be strong for myself? 

Every attempt at keeping the tears at bay was fruitless. They just kept coming no matter what I did. And keeping the hysteria out of my voice as I wept was impossible as well. I felt like I had been pulled and stretched too thinly these past two days. The emotional toll was too much, and my head throbbed as I cried. It felt as though I couldn’t breathe, and I wondered if I was having a panic attack on top of everything else. My eyes were burning, and my cheeks stinging worse than ever, but there was no stopping the tears this time. And perhaps, in some backwards way, that was okay. Maybe this moment of hysteria was exactly what I needed to be able to soldier on tomorrow morning. Yes. I would just have to believe that was the case. I allowed myself to let go and cry. I needed it. I needed this panic attack. 

And then once it was over, I could wipe my eyes, dry my cheeks and then move on. Tomorrow was a new day with new challenges. I had to be ready for that. 

Perhaps that was the reason why I didn’t even try and muffle my sobs anymore. Because if this was the last opportunity I had to fully let go, I was damn well gonna make good use of it. I allowed myself to fully remember everything that had happened within these past two days. Stephen’s rage, what he had called me, how he had yelled at me to leave the house. Lucas’ confusion, and then his rage. How he had avoided my attempt to touch him and then fled the scene. 

Just go away! I don’t wanna talk to you!

Suppose that meant forever? Suppose he never wanted to speak to me again? 

My hands trembled. Or perhaps it was all of me that trembled. Could very well be. It certainly felt like I had reached some sort of breaking point. It felt as though everything was culminating within me. I sniffled again and reminded myself that this was the last time I was allowed to break down. There would be no more of that. Tomorrow I would have to pull myself together. 

But right now tomorrow seemed so very far away, and I found it hard to believe that anything would be different. The idea that I somehow would feel any stronger tomorrow was ridiculous. I bit my lip as more tears spilled onto my cheeks. How was it physically possible for me to produce more tears? I felt completely dried out. Dried out and drained. Everything was coming crashing down on me, and it felt bizarre that it had only been four days since I had made stuffed peppers for my family. I wiped my eyes again, but it didn’t help very much. The tears kept coming rapidly. I couldn’t prevent them from falling. 

“Mum?”

I quickly removed my hands from my face. I hadn’t even heard the stairs creak. It had completely escaped my notice that I wasn’t alone anymore. Hastily, I wiped my tear stained cheeks and then looked up.

Lucas was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing his checkered pajamas, but his hair wasn’t ruffled like it always was when he had slept. That quickly made me wonder whether he had even gone to bed tonight. 

I was quick to pull myself together. Or at least try to. My voice was scratchy when I said: “hi, honey.” I did my utmost to pretend my son hadn’t just caught me crying hysterically. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to fix you something? Or how about some cocoa? I think there’s still a bit left-“

“I’m sorry,” Lucas interrupted. 

“W-what?” I stuttered. What’s going on?

Lucas shifted some and dragged his bare feet slightly as he shuffled towards me. “The stuff I said to you.... weren’t very nice.”

“Oh, Lucas,” I shook my head. “You’re not the one who should be apologizing. I am.”

“Are you?” he frowned and buried one hand in the pocket of his pajama bottoms. “I don’t think this is something you can apologize for.”

I sniffled again without fully knowing what I was crying about. But I did know that I felt terrible for crying in front of Lucas. I was his mother. I was supposed to be the strong one. The steady one. His rock. I wasn’t supposed to weep in front of him. I’m scaring him! Just stop crying, Ella! Stop it! Stop it right now!

But what ultimately what stopped the tears, wasn’t my own attempts at scolding myself. It was my son’s hand on my shoulder. 

“Mum, I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

I sniffled, tried my best to smile at him. “You have nothing to apologize for, honey.”

“I yelled at you.”

That almost made me laugh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“And now you’re crying because of me,” he continued and squeezed my shoulder slightly. 

“I’m not crying because of you, honey,” I assured as I finally lifted my head. “I’m crying because I feel bad about how this is going to change everything for you.”

Lucas moved so he was sitting next to me on the couch. His voice was small when he asked: “are you really... gay?”

“Yes,” I whispered, and my voice threatened to break once more. I could already feel new tears sting in my eyes. 

Lucas didn’t storm off. He remained rooted to the spot, even in the darkness, I could see how he frowned like he was lost in thoughts. 

I took the opportunity to sniffle once more and then force myself into a bit more normal sitting position. Then I ran two fingers through my mess of a hair. 

“How come you didn’t tell sooner?” he asked. His voice was still small. 

“I didn’t know until very recently,” I croaked. “I know that it’s normal to find out when you’re a t-teenager, but...” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. It sounded ridiculous, even to me.

“Does dad know?”

“He does,” I confirmed. 

“Is that why he left?”

“He was understandable very, very upset,” I said quietly. “And yes, I think that’s why he needed some time away.”

“You guys argued,” Lucas said. “That’s why you left, right?” 

“Well... Yes.” my departure hadn’t exactly been voluntarily, but I didn’t want to tell Lucas that. I had no interest in making Stephen look bad in Lucas’ eyes. Especially since I was the one who was disrupting our lives. 

But Lucas had always been a very smart boy, and the slight hesitation in my voice was all he needed to ask: “dad made you leave, didn’t he?”

“Lucas...”

“Didn’t he?”

“He did what he found necessary,” I dismissed. 

“Mum-“

“Lucas, your father isn’t the bad guy in this.”

“Neither are you.”

“I-“ I paused and looked at my son. “I’m not?”

“No, I don’t think you are,” Lucas said seriously. “I know I got angry, but-“

“You have every right to be upset, honey. It’s completely fine.”

Lucas nodded, still serious. “I don’t think I’m completely done being upset. I mean, this is...”

“Of course. I completely understand.”

“But,” Lucas continued. “I want you to know that I don’t think it’s.... wrong. I don’t think that you’re wrong. You’re my... You’re my mum.”

He suddenly sounded far older and more mature than a thirteen year old, and his words made me well up all over again. My voice was choked when I said: “really?”

Lucas nodded. “I know you think that I haven’t noticed, but I know that you and dad haven’t been.... very happy for a while.”

“Oh, honey,” I said gently and reached a hand out to run my fingers through his hair. He didn’t protest even though he always sneered when I did it. Instead he seemed to shrink, and his voice was small again when he asked: “where am I gonna live? When you and dad are not gonna be... together anymore...”

“We haven’t talked about anything,” I said firmly. “Not at all. And when we do talk about it, we won’t rush into any decision. We’ll make sure that whatever we decide is the best possible solution for you, Lucas. You come first. You always comes first. Do you understand?”

Lucas nodded and then flashed me a brave little smile. “Can I... Can I have that cocoa now?”

“Of course,” I said and leapt from the sofa so fast I became slightly dizzy. But I easily pushed the feeling back as I asked: “how about a peanut butter sandwich too? You must be starving.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice. I’m kind of hungry.”

“Coming right up,” I said, and my voice regained some of its normal, effective briskness as I marched into the kitchen, switched on the light and then found a casserole from the cupboard near the sink. I was quick to mix water, milk and cocoa powder, and my hand didn’t even tremble as I began stirring the mixture. 

“What’s wrong with your wrist?”

I whipped my head around at my son’s voice. “What did you say, honey?”

“Your wrist is bruised,” Lucas clarified and nodded towards my right arm. 

“Oh,” I said and quickly shook my arm so the sleeve on my pajamas slid down and covered the bruised flesh. “I slipped on the bathroom floor yesterday.”

“The bathroom floor?”

“Which is why you should always remember to wipe it,” I said and hoped that my attempt at joking would make him forget the subject. 

It worked. He chuckled slightly. 

I resumed stirring the mixture in the casserole. I felt so much lighter. Lucas was talking to me. He didn’t hate me. He would need time, I knew that, we were all gonna need time, but at least he was talking to me again. And even laughing a little at my horrible attempt at joking. 

It didn’t take very long before the cocoa started bubbling, indicating that it was finished and ready for drinking. I switched off the stove and carefully poured the cocoa into two cups. I handed Lucas the one cup. “Here you go, honey. Be careful. It’s very warm.”

“Thanks,” he said and smiled a little. It was a pale smile. Not quite like the ones I was used to, but I lapped it in me. Right now, a pale smile meant more than anything.

“A peanut butter sandwich?” I asked. 

He nodded as he took the first sip of his cocoa. 

I quickly made him a sandwich with peanut butter and jam. And one for myself. I could suddenly feel how hungry I actually was. I settled down by the dining table next to him, and for a moment none of us spoke as we sipped our cocoa and dug into our sandwiches. 

I relished in it. My son was right here. He was talking to me, and he didn’t hate me. It wasn’t too late. I hadn’t lost him. 

I found it hard to take my eyes off him. I never wanted to take my eyes off him now that he was finally sitting next to me, and I was almost waiting for him to scoff and tell me “that’s creepy, mum”, but he didn’t. When he looked up, he instead asked: “When do you think dad is coming home?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’ll call him first thing tomorrow and find out.”

“Have you talked to him today?”

“No,” I said and busied myself with taking a bite of my sandwich. 

“Have you tried calling him today?”

“I have.”

“And he didn’t answer?”

I swallowed the too big piece of sandwich with some trouble. “No, but you know how sketchy the connection sometimes is in your grandmother’s house.”

“Bull.”

“Lucas.”

“I’m sorry,” he amended. “But he can’t just not pick up when you call him.”

“I understand completely why your dad didn’t want to talk to me,” I said firmly. 

“But what if it had been an emergency?” Lucas continued. “What if you had fallen in the shower again and hit your head?”

I avoided the meaning behind the question. “If that had been the case, I would have called an ambulance and not your dad who’s almost two hours away.”

Lucas nodded like he sort of understood that. Then he took another sip of his cocoa. 

I devoured the rest of my sandwich and strongly considered to make myself another. I was really, really hungry. I could suddenly feel that I had eaten next to nothing all day. In the end, hunger won, and I   
rose from my seat and went back to the fridge to find the bread and peanut butter. “Do you want another sandwich too, Lucas?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Okay.” The layer of peanut butter I applied to my sandwich was disgustingly thick, but I felt like I had somehow deserved this late night snack. And possibly some more cocoa too. 

“Do you want some more cocoa, honey?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great.”

“Okay. More cocoa, coming up,” I said as I opened the cupboard to find the cocoa powder, I foolishly had put away a moment ago. I was quick to mix water, milk and cocoa powder, and I stirred the mixture with one hand while I held onto my sandwich with the other. For once, I didn’t care about the “eating at the table”-rule I had made myself. 

“Are you in love with her?”

I quickly turned around and looked at my son. “What did you say?” I had already heard him, but a part of me naively chose to believe that I hadn’t heard correctly.

“Bliss,” Lucas said, and he sounded so calm when he said her name. “Are you in love with her?”

“Lucas...” I said meekly. “I don’t... you don’t... We don’t have to talk about that right now. I think there’s already been so much-“

“I’m not gonna get angry again,” he said and tipped his chin slightly. “I just... I wanna know, mum. Please?”

“I..” my mouth felt dry and I nearly choked on the confession. “I am.”

“Is she in love with you too?” Lucas asked plainly. 

“We haven’t talked about that,” I whispered. My stirring had become a bit more rushed. 

“But you think she might be?”

“I... I think so,” I confirmed. Now I felt choked up for other reasons.

Lucas nodded a bit. “I’d like to talk more about her... at some point. Not right now.”

“Of course not,” I said immediately. “We’ve already talked about so many things tonight, haven’t we?”

He nodded again.

The cocoa had begun bubbling, and I quickly grabbed our two cups and poured the hot beverage into them. Then I switched off the stove and placed the two cups on the dining table. I took my sandwich and sat down next to Lucas by the table. He looked a bit pale, a bit shook up by today’s events, and I couldn’t blame him one bit. Today had been a very moving day. I reached out and ruffled his hair slightly. 

“How about we just sit for a while and drink our cocoa?” I suggested. 

“I’d like that,” Lucas said quietly.

I flashed him a little smile as I reached for my own cup of cocoa. He returned the smile and even clinked his cup with mine before bringing it up to his lips. 

Relief surged through me. The relationship between him and I weren’t damaged for good. I took a sip of my cocoa and leaned back on the chair. My breath had finally evened out. 

I dared believing that perhaps somehow everything would be okay.


	31. Chapter Thirty Two

I felt oddly prepared for battle the next morning. 

And I couldn’t quite explain why. I wasn’t exactly expecting to go to war with Stephen the moment he came home, but the moment I opened my eyes, I could just feel how all my senses had been wound tight like a bow ready to fire an arrow. 

I reminded myself to calm down as I slipped out of bed and shrugged a robe over my pajamas. 

This wasn’t a war. There would be no casualties today. We were both adults, and I was determined to act as such. I refused to raise my voice today, no matter what. 

I hoped that Stephen felt the same. He had been very calm when I had spoken to him over the phone last night. Almost too calm. A stark contrast to how he had shouted the last time I had seen him. If it hadn’t been for how steady his voice had been, I could almost have suspected him for being drunk last night. 

I tied the robe a little more firmly around myself and then I padded into the bathroom to run a comb through my morning messy hair. As I examined it, I noted that it was getting too long. Perhaps it was time to get a haircut. It had been a long time since I last had my hair cut. I would have to think more about that. 

But for right now, I had to make breakfast for my son. That was this morning’s mission. Everything else would have to wait. Perhaps I would even stop thinking about the fact that Stephen was coming   
home, and that I had no idea how the “conversation” between him and I were gonna go. I kept imagining that he was coming home armed with lawyers and documents and threats that he would take Lucas away from me. Exactly like I had dreamed of when I was in that hotel. 

I went downstairs and opened the fridge. I was completely absentminded as I grabbed a pack of bacon and then found the frying pan. It was only when the bacon had begun sizzling, I realized that I was in fact in the middle of making bacon for breakfast. Not turkey bacon. Real bacon. 

I sighed a little and scolded myself for being distracted. I guess we’ll be having bacon for breakfast today, then. 

I shook my head as I used the spatula to flip the bacon. 

It didn’t take long before Lucas was “summoned” by the smell of bacon and came downstairs. He sniffed into the air like he had done yesterday, and a grin spread across his face. “’Morning, mum.”

“Good morning, honey,” I said. “Are you hungry?” 

“Always,” he grinned. “But how come you’re making bacon?”

I shrugged lightly. “I suppose I just felt like making bacon for a change.”

“But you never make bacon,” he pointed out. 

“Today I do. How do you want your eggs? Sunny side up or scrambled?”

“Scrambled,” Lucas said. 

“Very well. Do you want your bread toasted or fried?”

“Fried,” Lucas said and ogled the crispy bacon sizzling on the frying pan. 

“Alright. Coming right up.”

“Thanks, mum,” Lucas grinned. “I’ll make the tea then.”

“Thank you, Lucas,” I said and did my best to return his smile even though I could feel the anxiety low in my belly. 

Soon both the bacon, eggs and bread was done, and I quickly maneuvered the lot onto a plate while Lucas did something about the whistling kettle. 

“Here you go, honey,” I said as I placed the full plate in front of him. 

“Thank you.” He frowned a bit. “You’ve only made one portion.”

“I’ll have a bagel,” I said as I poured myself a cup of tea. 

One of his eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

“With cream cheese,” I amended. 

He didn’t seem convinced. “You’re making this for me for breakfast but only having a bagel yourself?”

“I’m not that hungry,” I said and did my best to sound nonchalant as I spread cream cheese over my bagel. 

Lucas didn’t seem convinced, but instead of arguing he turned his attention to the food in front of him. The bacon crunched as he took the first bite. “This is really good.”

“I’m happy to hear that, dear,” I said and took another bite of my bagel. I really wasn’t very hungry. My stomach felt like it was full of stones. Or ice cubes. Which was a bit silly, because I had wished that Stephen would come home soon so we could talk properly, but now it just felt like it was too soon. I didn’t feel ready for whatever confrontation that was coming today. But there was nothing I could do about that. I certainly couldn’t just bury my head in the sand. No, it was high time to talk to Stephen. It was time to resolve things. It was time to make the first steps towards a divorce and the new life I knew was waiting for me. 

I glanced discreetly at Lucas as he ate. But not without him. Never without him. Lucas was my first priority. And he knew I was looking at him. He looked up and frowned questioningly at me. 

“Dad’s coming home today,” I said and somehow managed to keep my voice nonchalant and light. 

Lucas put his fork down. “Oh,” he said. His frown deepened. “And is that...”

“It’s a good thing,” I quickly said. “He and I have some things we need to talk through.”

“Just talk?” Lucas asked quietly. “I mean, you guys are not gonna shout at each other, are you?”

“No. Of course not.” It was an impulse promise, and technically, I couldn’t promise anything on Stephen’s behalf, but I was definitely gonna do my part. I was not gonna raise my voice. 

Lucas’ forehead was still wrinkled, and his mouth was a thin line. He looked older than thirteen, and I was quick to reach across the table and ruffle his hair slightly. A gesture he didn’t normally allow, but today was different. 

“It’s a good thing,” I repeated. “Your dad and I really need to talk about some things. You understand that, right?”

He nodded. “But once you’ve talked.... You’re not gonna leave again, are you?”

I didn’t leave. I was kicked out. “No, of course I’m not,” I said and managed to sound convincing. “I’m not going anywhere, Lucas.”

Lucas was quiet for a moment. He fiddled a little with his fork. Picked slightly at a piece of bacon without ever spearing it on his fork. I had a feeling that he wasn’t actually seeing the food. He was clearly lost in thoughts, and god, how he looked like me right now. Lately, I had seen that expression on my own face a dozen of times. And it wasn’t an expression I wanted to see on my son’s face. I didn’t want him to worry about anything.

“Is dad really mad at you?” Lucas asked quietly. “Like, really mad?”

“He’s a little mad, yes,” I nodded and ignored the way my wrist suddenly prickled. “But I think he’s more upset than anything else, really. And so am I.”

Lucas tilted his head slightly. 

“I care very much for your dad, and I don’t want him to hurt or be upset,” I said softly.

Lucas nodded slightly. 

I reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“Mum, it’s....” Lucas bit his lip slightly. “You don’t need to apologize, alright? But I will need some time to get used to the fact that my mum is.... gay.”

“Of course you do,” I said gently. I needed some time to get used to the fact that I was gay. 

I took another sip of my tea. Lucas had gone back to eating his breakfast, but now and then he looked up at me and smiled. Just to let me know that he wasn’t angry with me. 

I returned his smile and fell into silent amazement. Perhaps he was only thirteen, but he had acted beyond his young age these past few days. He had handled this with a maturity that could only impress me. Because I knew that this wasn’t just a brave façade that hid how he truly felt. No, he was being sincere, and I couldn’t have been prouder of him. I had expected him to lash out. To resent me. To hate me. I had been afraid that my worst fear had come true two days ago when he locked himself in his room and refused to talk to me. I had been sure that was the last I had seen of him, that he never would forgive me, but then he had surprised me. He had been so calm when we talked. I hoped Stephen would be as calm today. I wanted to show Lucas that Stephen and I could talk without shouting. I wanted to show him what a peaceful confrontation looked like. And I hoped that Stephen was thinking the same. I hoped that he would think of Lucas and not of himself for once. I fully understood how badly I had hurt Stephen’s feelings, but Lucas came first. Lucas always came first. And if Stephen couldn’t understand that....

No. I took another mouthful of tea. He had to understand that. He had to understand that we couldn’t fight when Lucas was in the house. 

“Mum?”

I snapped out of my musings. “Yes, sweetie?”

“You’re staring at me.”

So I was. “I’m sorry about that, honey. I was just... Lost in thoughts, I guess.”

“Oh.” He frowned again. “Are you worried?”

“No,” I said automatically. “Of course I’m not.”

“You are, though.”

“Alright, perhaps I am a little,” I amended. “But I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Are you worried about dad?” Lucas continued. “Are you scared that he might be angry with you?”

“I’m not scared of your dad, honey,” I said firmly. “I’ve never had any reason whatsoever to be afraid of your dad, alright?” whatever it is he was trying to imply, I had to puncture it right now. Stephen was   
not some sort of enemy. 

Lucas nodded a little. “What do you think is gonna happen, mum? I mean, once you and dad...”

“I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know. But I do know that you better get a move on. You don’t have long before the bus arrives.”

He snickered and then nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

He finished his breakfast and then raced upstairs to find his schoolbag. While he got ready, I cleared the table, and by the time I was loading the dishwasher, he came back downstairs with his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“See you later, mum,” he said as he fixed his hair slightly. 

“Bye, honey. Have a nice day at school. And listen to your teachers.”

“I always do,” he mock scowled. 

I chuckled as I heard him mutter under his breath in the hallway as he put his shoes and coat on. Ten seconds later, I heard the door open and then slam shut. I cringed. One of these days I would have to teach him that we didn’t slam the door. We closed it quietly. 

I finished loading the dishwasher and as I started it and then closed it, I wondered what to do now. I couldn’t just skulk around and nurse my anxiety while waiting for Stephen to come home. That seemed like a very wrong thing to do, even if I was anxious. I had told Lucas that everything would be fine. The least I could do was act like everything was fine. 

So once I had scrubbed the kitchen table, I went upstairs and traded my pajamas and bathrobe for a pair of yoga pants, a tanktop and a sweater I could wear over it. I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, brushed my hair again and then tied it back in a ponytail. Once that was done, I padded down the hallway, made my way down the stairs and then found my running shoes in the hallway. As I crouched down to tie them, I heard the soft pitter patter of rain on the windows. The weather wasn’t exactly ideal for running, but I firmly pushed back the part of me that wanted to stay in. I couldn’t do that. I knew myself. If I stayed here, I would end up thinking and worrying about the confrontation that was to come. And I also knew that going for a run would make me feel better. I would feel refreshed and pleasantly tired at the same time. And it would do me good. 

So once I had tied my running shoes, I plugged my headphones into my phone and frowned slightly as I searched for an appropriate podcast. Watching Bliss make her pottery had made me grow curious, so I ended up choosing a podcast called “MudTalk”. I suppose one could say that I had gained a newfound interest for pottery and wanted to learn more about the subject.

I straightened my back, made sure that the phone couldn’t slip out of my pocket, and then I opened the front door. The sight meeting my eyes was less than encouraging. The sky was steely grey, and the rain looked like it could intensity at any given moment.

But there was nothing I could do about that. I had to take that run whether I wanted to or not. 

I was sweaty when I returned home. And not to mention drenched to the skin. A few stray strands of hair were sticking to my cheeks, and I was shivering slightly. Obviously, I had managed to get caught in what seemed to have been a regular rainstorm. I felt sorry for myself, but even more sorry for Lucas. He and the rest of the class always had to spend time outside during their breaks. I hoped he had sought shelter from the rain. 

I walked upstairs to the bathroom and stripped out my wet clothes. I was quick to switch the shower on, and the hot water felt nice and soothing after the downpour I had just gotten caught in.   
I dawdled and spend extra long on soaping myself in and wash my hair, but I couldn’t very well keep standing under the warm stream for hours. Even though I wanted to. 

Eventually, I switched the water off and stepped out of the shower. As I wrapped a towel around myself, I noted how restless I felt despite the run I had just been on. I felt as though I was stuck in some sort limbo until Stephen came home.

After having getting dressed, I ended up wandering around aimlessly in the house until I finally realized that what I was doing was idiotic. 

I padded back to my little studio. I smiled a little as I looked at the purple walls. I had been so excited when I brought the paint home. It had been the highlight of my day. My gaze landed upon the briefcase full of all the drawings I had made during the art lessons. I sat down in the office chair and opened the briefcase. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was proud of each and every single picture. Bliss looked so alive in all the pictures, and once again I came to think about the offer Griselda Abbott’s son had made. The timing was almost a bit ironic. It was odd that this offer came now when my life was about to change so drastically. I thoughtfully touched one of the newer pictures of Bliss. I had told Lucas that I would think about it, but....

Wasn’t it a bit silly of me? This was without a doubt the opportunity of a lifetime. I would never get an offer like this again, I was sure of that, so exactly what was there to think about? 

It will be no harm to drop a couple of drawings off at Griselda Abbott’s place, I thought to myself. Then her son could go over them and decide whether he wanted to do something with them or not. 

Obviously, he would need time to go over every drawing, and he would need time to decide whether he could use them or not. It wasn’t just a short process. What’s the harm in trying? Yes, perhaps he’s gonna say no, but then I’ll at least have tried. I can’t just let an opportunity like this waste away. It would be ridiculous. 

I made a quick decision and found my phone in my pocket. I dialed a number and then waited.

“Hello, this is Griselda.”

“Griselda? It’s Ella Benson,” I said and smiled. 

“Ah, Ella!” she said in the other end. “I’m very happy to hear from you. I assume you’ve heard the message I left you?”

“I have,” I confirmed and nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “And I was wondering if I could pop round with a few of my drawings?”

“Absolutely,” Griselda said in the other end. “I’m currently at Archie’s Grill. Would it be possible for you to meet me there?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll just select a few drawings and then I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” Griselda said. “Louis will be very pleased about that. He isn’t that easily impressed, but your portrait made him look twice, and when I told him that you have an art degree...”

I chuckled slightly. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Spiffing,” Griselda said. There was a slight click, and then she was gone. 

I chuckled again. Griselda was quite the character. Quite the eccentric woman. I briefly wondered whether she had actually been mocking my accent a moment ago, and the thought of that made me laugh   
once more. I shook my head. I had met quite a few people who found my accent amusing lately.

I popped the phone back in my pocket, and then I went back downstairs and wiggled my feet into my boots. Put on my coat and then finding a dusty umbrella that had been left in a forgotten corner behind the washing machine. I wondered how it had ended up there. Then I wiped it slightly with my sleeve. I trusted the umbrella to serve me well today as I ventured out in the rain once more. This time with much more vigor.

******************************

The umbrella served me well, and I reached Archie’s Grill without getting drenched. It didn’t take long before I spotted Griselda. The elderly art teacher was sitting at a table in the corner, and she smiled when she saw me. 

I walked over to her and sat down on the chair across her. 

“Ella,” Griselda smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Griselda.”

“May I buy you a cup of coffee?” she offered.

“Oh, you really don’t have-“

“I insist,” she interrupted. “You’re here because of me.”

I could already sense that arguing would be pointless, so I kept my mouth shut and smiled while she ordered two cups of coffee. 

“Now let’s see,” Griselda said briskly as I handed her the briefcase. 

“I tried to find the best ones like you asked me to,” I said. 

She nodded and smiled as she went through the portraits of Bliss in the briefcase. “These are all very good. Very alive. Louis will be pleased.”

“Being interested in art runs in the family,” I observed and smiled. 

“Oh, yes, indeed. Louis has been painting since he could hold a pencil,” Griselda said. “And it used to drive me mad because I had convinced myself that it wasn’t healthy for him to stay indoors and paint   
all day.”

“Kids do benefit from getting a bit of fresh air now and then,” I half-quipped. 

“Indeed they do.”

“I wish my son would sit and paint instead of spending so much time on his computer,” I said and thereby referred to an “ongoing” discussion between Lucas and myself. 

“How old is your son?” Griselda asked interested.

“Lucas is thirteen. Almost fourteen. He grows too quickly.”

“So does Louis,” Griselda said and scowled a bit. “He’s forty three even though I forbade him to grow anymore when he was eight.” 

I laughed. “They never listen to us, do they?”

“No, they don’t. Thank you,” Griselda said and flashed the waitress a smile as she came over with two cups of coffee. 

I busied myself with adding cream and sugar to my coffee. I would have preferred tea, but I wouldn’t dream of telling Griselda that now that she had been kind enough to buy for me. I could settle for coffee today. 

Griselda took a sip of her coffee and then observed: “you’ve stopped coming to my lessons.” 

I blushed a little at her direct manner. “Yes, I really enjoyed the lessons, but I’m afraid there isn’t much room in my life for art lessons at the moment. I’m going through a very hectic time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Griselda said sincerely. “But don’t stop drawing, do you hear me? You can’t let that talent waste away.”

“I’ll find time to draw again,” I promised. “Once things are a bit... calmer. My private life is a bit chaotic at the moment.” I took a sip of my coffee. I wasn’t completely sure why I was telling her that. Perhaps it had something to do with her frank attitude. Griselda was the sort of person you wanted to confide in. The sort of person you wanted to talk to about things you maybe wouldn’t have spoken loudly about normally.

“I see,” Griselda nodded. “And is there any chance it has something to do with our live model miss Edwards?”

I choked completely on the mouthful of coffee and spluttered as I tried to clear my throat. “I- what-“

“My dear, I’m an old crow,” Griselda interrupted and chuckled. “And an old crow with eyes in my head, too. I know a lingering gaze when I see one.”

I was flabbergasted and almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I thought that Bliss and I had been subtle. That no one had paid attention to when he had looked at each other for a little too long. But apparently, we hadn’t fooled Griselda. 

Griselda chuckled again and patted my hand lightly. “No reason to look so shocked, Ella. I doubt anyone but me noticed a thing.”

I shook my head and took another sip of my coffee. “That wasn’t exactly what I had expected when I decided to join your class.”

Griselda flashed me a smile. “No, I can imagine so, but sometimes life surprises us, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” I agreed. 

“You are fond of her,” Griselda observed plainly. 

“Yes,” I said simply, and for some reason, I didn’t mind telling Griselda about it. It felt as though the more people I told it to, the truer it became.

“Good,” Griselda said just as simply. “Now let’s take a more throughout look at the drawings you brought.”

And that was it. Griselda didn’t bring up the subject again as she looked through the drawings once more. Instead she nodded and mumbled comments about my drawings.

I was still completely flabbergasted at what had just occurred. I was shocked that Griselda knew. Shocked and surprised, because I felt like I had gone out of my way to prevent anyone at the art class finding out what was going on between Bliss and me. But it would appear that I had forgotten to think about Griselda, and now I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

“All of these are excellent,” Griselda said and brought me back to reality. “If you don’t mind, I’ll show Louis all of them, and then I’ll ask him to call you back as soon as he has come to a decision.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, and then we toasted on our agreement. I felt a spark of hope ignite within me. Perhaps my life was chaotic right now, but there was still room for being hopeful.

On my way home from Archie’s Grill, I called Delia and told her about the latest development. I told her that Lucas was handling things amazingly, I told her about Griselda’s son with the art gallery, and the offer he had made. Delia was over the moon, and very firm in her instructions “not to blow this”. I was proud to report that I had already had a meeting of sorts with Griselda, in which I had given her a briefcase with my best drawings. 

“I’m proud of you,” Delia said. “You’ll be in New York before you know it.”

“One thing at the time,” I said. “Stephen is coming home today.”

“Oh,” Delia said, exactly like Lucas had done earlier this morning. 

“It’s good,” I said firmly. “He and I need to talk. Properly. Without raising our voices.”

“And you think he’ll remember that?” Delia asked skeptically.

“He better,” I said. “I fully understand that he’s angry with me, but Lucas will be home this time, and I don’t want to frighten him. Stephen and I are both adults, and we must be capable of communicating as such.”

“I hope he has cooled off,” Delia said in the other end, and I could hear her open and close her fridge. 

“I just hope he hasn’t lawyered up,” I said a little bitterly. 

“He can’t take Lucas from you,” Delia said plainly. “He just can’t. He’s barely been there at all. The idea that he should suddenly want custody over Lucas because you’re divorcing is ridiculous.”

“Perhaps it isn’t in his mind,” I said a bit absentmindedly as I thought of how Stephen had looked at me the last time we had seen each other. He had looked so utterly repulsed. So full of hatred. If he really had decided that he wanted to punish me, it wouldn’t come as an enormous surprise.

“I could ask Tom to get Liam to call you?” Delia suggested. “You know, his old friend who just so happens to be a lawyer now.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I think I would prefer to wait and see how things go today,” I said as I fiddled with the key in the engine. “I don’t want to make any decisions just yet. Not before I see how   
things... How Stephen are.”

“Alright, but just say the word, and I’ll start pulling some strings,” Delia said. 

“I’ll remember that. Let’s hope it won’t be as bad as I keep imagining it,” I said and tried my best to laugh. But the sound came out a bit strangled. 

“And if you want me to come and stay with you for a couple of days, or better still take you and the kid with me to Montpelier, just give me a holler,” Delia added. 

I chuckled. “Thank you. I hope no kidnappings will be required though.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Delia said. 

So would I. God, I hope everything will be alright.

“And have you heard from Bliss?” Delia asked, pulling me out of my thoughts again.

“I texted a bit with her yesterday,” I answered. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to see her right away. Not when things are this chaotic.” I could hear the sadness seep through my voice, and I knew that Delia could too. I wasn’t embarrassed about it. I wasn’t embarrassed to admit out loud that I missed Bliss. 

Delia understood. Delia encouraged me, like she always did, and I was so grateful for her. Once again, she proved how good a friend she was. 

******************

Time went fast after I came home. 

Lucas arrived home from school. A bit grumpy after having spent his early break in the rain, but he soon lightened up and asked his usual question. ‘What are we having for dinner?’

I told him that I had no idea about that. I hadn’t thought of that. I had been too busy glancing at the clock and counting the hours, minutes, seconds until Stephen arrived home. I was riling myself up, but there was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent it. I wasn’t in the mood for another fight with Stephen. And I certainly wasn’t in the mood to defend who I was. The horrible word Stephen had called me was still haunting me. 

Then I realized that Lucas was still waiting for an answer, and I made up for my distracted behavior by telling him that we would order some Chinese food. He looked very satisfied with that. He uncharacteristically settled down by the kitchen table and started telling me all about his day in school, and I listened gratefully to every word he said. Whether he was trying to distract me because he could see that my imagination was going into overdrive, or simply felt like telling me about his day, remained unclear, but I was grateful either way. It felt as though Lucas and I had gotten closer these past few days. However strange it sounded, it felt as though the events these past few day had somehow strengthened our bond. I smiled at him as he told me all about how one of his teachers seemingly was a “moron”, and then I mildly scolded him and told him that he shouldn’t speak of his teacher like that. 

“But he is,” Lucas stated plainly.

“Lucas,” I protested, but laughed all the same because he looked so defiant while he said it.

“You don’t like Mr. Jansson either,” Lucas accused. 

He was right, but I refused to admit that out loud. So I shook my head and prompted: “Tell me about the good things that happened in school instead of speaking ill of your teachers, please.”

“Teach-er,” Lucas corrected. “Singular. I’ve never criticized all of them.”

“How was Trevor doing today?” I asked and purposefully ignored his comment.

Lucas laughed and rolled his eyes slightly. “He was fine, mum. Still better at math than me.”

I chuckled lightly. “You’re excellent at math, Lucas. Your biggest problem is that you don’t believe enough in your own abilities.”

“I don’t think dad sees it that way,” Lucas said a bit subdued. “He wants me to be awesome at math so I can get his job someday.”

I reached across the table and patted his hand. “Numbers aren’t everything, honey. You do have other options, you know.”

“I know, mum,” Lucas said and smiled a little. “Maybe I’ll end up painting like you.”

I laughed. “Speaking of that, I actually had a meeting with Griselda Abbott today.”

“You did? Did you give her some of your drawings?”

“I did,” I confirmed and smiled. 

“And...?”

“And we’ll see what happens,” I said lightly. “There are no guarantees. Maybe nothing will come from it, but at least I tried then, right?”

Lucas huffed. “Your drawings are good, mum.”

“Thank you, honey. That’s very sweet of you.”

“I mean it,” Lucas said firmly. “If that Louis guy doesn’t choose your paintings, he’s an idiot.”

“Lucas,” I scolded lightly. “Please don’t use that word.”

“I mean, if he doesn’t choose your paintings, I’d question his intelligence,” Lucas amended. 

And even though that wasn’t quite what I wanted to hear, I ended up laughing instead of scolding him. 

“We do not call people idiots,” I sniggered. “Nor do we question their intelligence.”

“It sounds better than just calling someone an idiot,” Lucas pointed out. 

“That may be, but it’s still not a very nice thing to say.”

Lucas laughed shamelessly and then his eyes gleamed slightly as he said: “I want spring rolls for dinner.”

“I think I’d rather have fried wontons,” I mused. It had been a long time since I last had allowed myself to indulge in such greasy food and thinking about it actually made me quite hungry.

Lucas licked his lips. “Maybe I’ll have that too.”

“Maybe you should. That way we wouldn’t have to order two different-“ I cut myself off and listened instead. I could hear the sound of tires in the driveway outside. 

“Mum?”

“I think dad’s home,” I said as I stretched my neck to look out of the window. Stephen was indeed in the middle of parking the car in front of the house. I frowned slightly. He only ever parked the car in front of the house when he was leaving again. 

Lucas frowned too, and suddenly he looked concerned again. I didn’t want him to look concerned, so I was quick to flash him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. A promise that everything was gonna be fine. But I felt beside myself. I couldn’t remember what I normally did when Stephen came home. Did I sit in the kitchen and have tea? Or did I perhaps sit in the sitting room and read or watch television? I really couldn’t remember. 

I could hear the telltale sound of the gravel crunching as Stephen exited the car. He opened the door to the passenger’s seat. Most likely to find the bag he always used for shorter trips. I knew his every move. 

The gravel crunched again, and then his footsteps echoed slightly as he reached the pathway that lead up to the porch. The door was opened and then closed, and then I could hear him in the hallway as he discarded of his coat and most likely left his bag there too. Normally, I would remove the bag and throw the used clothes into the washing machine. I briefly wondered why I had kept doing that for this long. 

“Mum?” Lucas said again. 

I looked up at him. “Do you have any homework?” I asked. Just to reinforce the idea that this was a completely normal day. 

“A bit,” Lucas shrugged. 

“Well, why don’t you pop upstairs and do it before we’re having dinner?” I offered.

“Not yet,” Lucas said plainly. 

I didn’t argue with him. Instead I turned my attention to the footsteps that was now leaving the hallway. The soft spot on the floor creaked slightly, and then Stephen came into the kitchen. He looked exactly like himself in his blue shirt and black pants. The only thing different about him was the fact that he looked a little tired. There were dark circles underneath his eyes. 

He turned his head and flashed Lucas a little smile, but his eyes were quite expressionless as he looked at me. 

“Hi, dad,” Lucas piped up. 

Stephen smiled at him again, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Lucas, why don’t you pop upstairs while dad and I talk?” I suggested and kept my voice as light as possible.

But Lucas didn’t seem very keen on that. He nervously looked from his father to me, frowned and then shifted slightly on his feet. 

“It’s alright,” I said reassuringly. “Go on.”

But he still wasn’t convinced. “Are you gonna shout at each other?” he asked plainly. 

“No, of course we’re not,” I said.

Stephen didn’t say anything.

With one last concerned look at both his father and me, Lucas turned around and went upstairs. I didn’t hear his door close. He seemingly had every intention of listening to what was being said downstairs, and had the situation been any different, I probably would have scolded him for it, but today the gesture just managed to break my heart a little. Because that was how worried he was that Stephen and I were gonna yell at each other. 

Stephen tugged a little at the collar of his shirt and then opened the first button like he always did when he had just come home. 

“Do you want some coffee?” I offered, showing him that I had every intention to keep this conversation civil.

“No thank you,” he said a bit formally. It was clear that he didn’t know how to talk to me.

“Alright then.”

He shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable, and he wasn’t too fond of looking at me either. 

“I understand you’ve been in Ludlow?” I asked and placed my folded hands on the kitchen table.

“Yes,” he said shortly.

“You left Lucas on his own,” I remarked, and now my voice was a bit frosty.

“And I realize that wasn’t the most sensible thing to do,” Stephen said. His voice was cold too. 

“Good,” I said plainly. I suddenly wished that I’d had a cup of tea. I needed something in my hands. Something that could prevent them from moving. I lifted one hand and brushed a strand of hair away   
from my eyes. 

For the first time Stephen didn’t look emotionless as he glanced at my now exposed wrist. I too looked down quickly. The marks on my wrist was slowly fading, but there was still a bit of purple left. 

Stephen opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly shook my head while I purposefully nodded towards the stairs. Stephen immediately understood what I was trying to silently tell him. That Lucas didn’t know how I had sustained the bruise. 

“I’ve been in touch Mr. Rawlinson,” Stephen said and rubbed his cheek, and only now I noticed his stubble. Had he forgotten, or simply neglected to shave?

“Alright?” I quietly encouraged. Mr. Rawlinson was our lawyer. Well, was our lawyer. Technically, he wasn’t mine anymore.

“I have asked him to prepare the required paperwork. You’ll need to get a lawyer too since you are the one who is filing for a divorce,” Stephen said coldly. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? A divorce.”

“Stephen,” I said quietly. “Lucas is home.”

He ignored that. “I don’t want a divorce, Ella. I would have preferred to work through our issues together.”

I nearly saw red at that, but I forced myself to remain calm as I said: “this is not something we can work through.” And it’s not an issue either. But I saw no reason to add that. Right now, my main goal was to ensure that he didn’t raise his voice and scared our son. 

“But I understand that if I refuse to accept the divorce, we can end up in court because of it,” Stephen said and completely ignored my remark. “And I am not about to let myself be humiliated in a courtroom. Nor am I interested in the reason for our divorce becoming a public affair, so you’ll get it how you want it, Ella.”

“Thank you,” I said, determined to choose the high road. “I appreciate that.”

“And I appreciated our marriage!” he spat. “But I don’t suppose that means anything to you, does it?”

“Of course it does,” I said quietly. “But I cannot live a lie, Stephen. I cannot pretend to be someone I’m not.” 

“I still love you,” he said without meeting my eyes.

I looked at him, and it that moment I felt incredibly sorry for him. He was a man desperately clawing onto what had been his reality for the past twenty one years. Letting go of your entire foundation wasn’t just something you could do that easily. But nevertheless I knew that he wasn’t being truthful right now. He didn’t love me. He loved the idea that I was here when he came home after a long day.   
He loved the stability of it all. The pleasant, yet uninspiring stream that had been our marriage for quite a while now. 

I shook my head once. No, you don’t. And you haven’t for a while. “We both deserve more than this, Stephen. We deserve to be happy.”

“I was happy!”

“Were you? Were you really?”

His mouth twisted and he didn’t answer. 

“Exactly,” I said quietly.

He laughed coldly, bitterly, without responding to my observation. “My opinion probably means very little to you, but if you ask me, you’ve had your head twisted, my dear. And now you’re prepared to give up everything for something that’s new and exciting.”

“That is not true,” I said, and my voice was a bit louder this time. But I still refused to yell.

He scoffed, clearly believing that he knew better. 

Anger flared up within me, and there was a part of me that wanted to yell to him that what he was implying wasn’t true. Bliss and I were in love. That was the truth. The only truth. The only thing that really mattered. I took a deep breath. Just stay calm, Ella.

“I bought this house,” Stephen continued. “And I’m not planning on moving out.”

“Of course not.”

“But however, I have some meetings in both Boston and Los Angeles in the near future,” Stephen said. “And the house cannot stand empty for a longer period.”

Was that his way of “allowing” me to stay when he wasn’t here? 

“As soon as you’ve contacted a lawyer, and we’ve made the first steps, I’ll be going to Boston,” Stephen said formally.

“I see.”

“Now, regarding custody over Lucas...” Stephen said.

“Yes?” I replied and an invisible fist squeezed my heart.

“I’m not a fool,” Stephen hissed. “I’m perfectly aware that you have been his primary caregiver since the day he was born, and therefore I know that I wouldn’t have a very strong case should I chose to go to court and file for custody of him. Of course I know that financially, I can give him more than you, but I doubt the judges will see it from that point of view only.”

I almost held my breath as I asked: “so, what is it you’re saying exactly?”

“I’m saying that I won’t fight you in court to get custody over him,” Stephen said plainly. “But he is still my son too! And I want to see him regularly.”

“I would never keep him away from you,” I said firmly. 

“And lastly, I’d appreciate if you could move out of the bedroom,” he said mechanically. “I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I’ll be sleeping in the studio,” I said.

He only nodded slightly to acknowledge that. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some work to attend to.” With that he turned his back on me and disappeared into his office. The door shut firmly behind him. 

I allowed myself to breathe again. He won’t take Lucas away from me. He won’t separate us. For the second time within a very short time span, I felt hot tears prickling in my eyes, but this time it was tears of pure relief, and I didn’t even bother to wipe my cheeks. This time, I would allow the tears to flow freely.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

-Six months later

“....And if you could just sign right here, Mrs. Benson,” Liam said and handed me a pencil.

My heart thrummed in my chest as I put my signature on the dotted line. It was strange, really. To think that my name on the dotted line was the last step I needed to take. Now Stephen and I weren’t married anymore. 

I put the pencil down. “That’s that, I suppose.”

Liam nodded a little, looked carefully at me as though he was trying to gauge my reaction. 

It was an odd feeling. An era of my life was irreversibly over. I was no longer a married woman. It felt like the strange anticlimactic culmination of these past eight months. 

“Mrs. Benson?”

I looked up at Liam and smiled to assure him that I was fine. I didn’t quite have the heart to tell him that I had started to call myself “Mrs. Evans” now. I wasn’t Stephen’s wife anymore. It didn’t feel right to call myself “Mrs. Benson”. 

“Thank you for all your help, Liam,” I said and rose from the chair I had been pointed to a bit earlier when I had arrived at his office. 

“There is no need to thank me, Mrs. Benson,” he said and extended his hand towards me. “You and Stephen cooperated. Things went relatively smoothly because of that.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I insisted and shook his hand. “You’ve been most helpful.”

“I wish you good luck in the future,” he said and flashed me a little smile. 

“Thank you,” I said. And with that I left his office. As a divorced woman. 

I crossed the parking lot and climbed into the car. And as I switched the engine on, I thought back to the days and weeks after Stephen had come home and announced that he had reached out to his lawyer....

***********

I had expected it to be a huge change. That the tension in the house would be horrible and unbearable, but honest to god, not many things changed. 

After Stephen had sealed himself off in his office, I ordered the Thai food. Exactly like I had said I would. Then I texted Delia and asked her to send me Liam Gallagher’s number. Now that I knew that Stephen wasn’t gonna deny me a divorce, it was time to get my own lawyer. I liked Mr. Rawlinson, but Stephen and I couldn’t use the same lawyer. It didn’t take long before Delia texted me the number and furthermore instructed me to give her a “holler” if I needed anything else. I thanked her and assured her that I would. 

Soon the Thai food arrived, and as if he had been summoned by the smell, Lucas came downstairs to eat. I could tell that he was worried, so I smiled reassuringly at him, and to show him that Stephen and I were capable of talking to each other, I went over to Stephen’s office, knocked once on the door and told him that I had ordered Thai food. I wasn’t completely sure whether he was actually hungry or simply trying his best for Lucas, but either way he emerged from his office and came into the kitchen to eat with us. He spoke with Lucas like he always did, but mostly avoided talking directly to me. And he finished his dinner very quickly and then excused himself. He still had more work to take care of, he said. 

Lucas and I ate the rest of the Thai food, and Lucas immediately asked what was gonna happen now. 

I gave him an honest reply and told him that I would be getting in touch with Liam Gallagher and then formally file for a divorce. Lucas just nodded and said “okay”. I watched him carefully, to gauge his reaction, but he just smiled a little and told me that he was happy Stephen and I hadn’t shouted at each other. 

So was I. 

He then proceeded to ask whether I was gonna leave because Stephen was home. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured him. Only out of the bedroom, but that wouldn’t be a major change. It already felt as though Stephen and I were sleeping in separate bedrooms. 

Lucas looked relieved. 

After a couple of hours, Stephen once again emerged from his study and proclaimed that he would be going to bed. While he was in the bathroom, I went into the bedroom and grabbed my pillow and duvet and moved the lot into the studio along with one of my pajamas. 

I think perhaps Lucas was tired after having been on edge, because he went to bed earlier than he normally did. And I didn’t last long either. After staying downstairs thirty minutes more than him, I gave up and went upstairs. The door to the bedroom was firmly shut, and I could hear Stephen snore softly on the other side. I tried not to wake him as I went into the bathroom and prepared myself for the night. Once I had changed into my pajamas, I padded down the hall and into my little studio where the makeshift bed was waiting for me. I had expected that my head would be swimming with thoughts after the anxious day I’d had, but the moment my head hit the pillow, I realized how exhausted I was. Today had been a trying day, and tomorrow there would be new things I needed to take care of. I had to make sure I got a decent night of sleep. 

Stephen was home for five days exactly, and during those five days I reached out to Liam Gallagher and scheduled my first meeting with him. He promised to prepare the paperwork so I could formally file for a divorce. 

Stephen was present for every meal, and there was no change in his behavior when it came to Lucas. To me he was acting civil. Reserved, but polite. And I was satisfied with that. If that set the tone for how we were gonna communicate in the future, we were off to a fine start. 

After the fifth day, Stephen announced that he would be going to Boston for a week or two. I wished him a good trip like I always did. 

Everything felt oddly normal once he had left. Lucas and I were so used to being home alone. This wasn’t a major change. 

I was very busy during those two weeks. I had my first meeting with Liam Gallagher, I filed for a divorce. The papers were send to Stephen’s address in Boston, and I thought to myself that perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that Stephen wouldn’t be home when he received the papers. The reason for divorce was listed as “Irreconcilable differences”. Stephen had requested that. I had been surprised at that, but he had just scoffed and said that he wasn’t interested in having too many people knowing what was going on. I hadn’t argued, but I knew he was ashamed over me. My choices embarrassed him. 

But I refused to let that get to me. 

The weeks without Stephen left me with plenty of things to do. I kept sleeping in the studio. It was easier that way. Some nights I were exhausted, and some nights my mind was so full of thoughts I couldn’t sleep. On the first night that happened, I ended up texting Bliss. She had immediately texted me back and even offered to call me, but I was afraid it would wake Lucas, so we had stuck to texting. 

I had told her that Stephen and I had made the first steps towards a divorce, I told her that I hadn’t been kicked out again, and I told her that Stephen wouldn’t take Lucas away from me, and Bliss expressed how happy and relieved she was to hear that, and once again told me that she would wait for me. However long it may take. 

That had almost made me cry a little, I had been so sensitive lately, and my fingers had been trembling slightly as I texted her back and told her how much that meant to me. How much I appreciated her. How much I missed her, and how much I wanted to be with her.

There were days were I was positive and optimistic about the future, and then there were days where I was more cautious. 

Between Stephen’s many meetings, he found time to meet with Mr. Rawlinson. Sometimes he and I and our lawyers were together in the same room, and Stephen and I continued to be civil to one another as we discussed what was gonna happen in the future. Stephen was very quick to inform both lawyers that he wasn’t intending on going into a battle for custody. And he furthermore openly admitted that   
I was the one who had the closest bond with Lucas. I was the one who had been taking him to school, cooked his meals and so on. It made perfect sense that I should get custody over Lucas, Stephen said. Mr. Rawlinson mentioned how Stephen’s job often kept him away from home, and Stephen agreed to that. 

“Now, about the house...” Mr. Rawlinson said. “I understand that Mr. Benson is the one who bought the house thirteen years ago?”

“Yes, that’s the correct,” Stephen said. “But I have been considering to move to Boston. To be closer to my work.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Mr. Rawlinson nodded. “So, you’re considering to sell the house?”

“Yes, eventually,” Stephen said, and then he looked at me. “Do you know what you’ll do if and when the house is sold?”

“I’ll most likely find a flat,” I said truthfully. 

“A flat?” Stephen repeated and one of his eyebrows raised. “You’ve never tried living in a flat alone before.”

“There are so many things I’ve never tried before, Stephen,” I said softly. I didn’t say that I was considering to move to New York, but I thought to myself that it would be perfect if Stephen moved to Boston. If I really did move to New York with Lucas, there would be a much shorter distance between him and Stephen. Lucas could fly to Boston on his own. It was a direct flight. No stopovers. He wouldn’t have to wander around in an airport all by himself.

The first thing I did after coming home from the meeting with our lawyers, was remaining sitting in the car while I rang Bliss. I couldn’t stand to not be in contact with her, and she had more or less begged me to call and tell her how the meetings with our lawyers had gone. She sounded so relieved when I told her that considering the circumstances, everything had gone rather smoothly. I told her that Stephen was thinking about moving to Boston, and I also told her about my own moving plans. She sounded perfectly innocent when she said that she had always wanted to live in New York. I laughed at that and jokingly said to her that we would have to find flats that were close to each other. She liked that suggestion, and then she had made a suggestion of her own. A holiday once all of this was over. 

Somewhere far away from Vermont where I could catch my breath, as she had put it. 

I liked that suggestion. But going on holiday alone? I wasn’t so sure I wanted to do that. 

“Come with me,” I said plainly. 

“Are you sure?” Bliss asked in the other end. 

“Yes, I am,” I said firmly. “I want to go away with you. Like we talked about.”

“Ella, are you serious?”

“Yes. Deeply,” I said. “Unless you don’t-“

“Of course I do,” Bliss interrupted. “I want to be with you.”

Her words made me feel warm all over. She was a soothing balm in this hectic time.

“Where do you want to go?” Bliss asked softly in the other end. 

“Paris,” I said immediately. There had never been any other options. 

She laughed. “Oh la la. Count me the fuck in.”

Now I was the one who was laughing. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the way you talk.”

“I hope not,” Bliss said. “Because I’m counting on making you listening to me for a very, very long time.”

“That sounds alright to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm,” I said and chuckled again. 

“I miss you,” Bliss said earnestly.

“I miss you too. So much....”

A car honked and brought me out of my musings. The traffic light in front of me had changed from red to green, and I was currently blocking the road. I gave the driver a slight, awkward wave and then I steered the car away from the traffic light. I couldn’t get lost in thoughts when I was driving. That would be very unfortunate. 

Soon I reached my destination and I looked at the house as I parked the car in the driveway. Stephen had moved out three months ago and was living in Boston full time. For now, Lucas and I were still living in the house, but eventually, and once things had settled down and the divorce wasn’t as brand-new, we would start searching for a new place to live. In New York. I hoped he and I would be in The Big Apple by next winter. Because that was when Louis Abbott would be displaying my portraits of Bliss in his gallery. He had been kind enough to offer to wait until I had “sorted things out”, as he put it. When I had tried to protest, he had just brushed me of and claimed that “good art was worth waiting for”. 

I exited the car, and the gravel crunched slightly under my shoes as I crossed the driveway. The door wasn’t locked. Lucas had already come home. I frowned. He was supposed to be at school right now.

“It’s only me,” I called as I came into the hallway. 

“Yeah, I know,” came the cheeky response from the sitting room. 

I rolled my eyes as I toed off my shoes. Which actually was a silly thing, seeing that I was gonna leave again sooner rather than later.

I found my son splayed out on the soda in front of the television where he was watching something that was probably far too violent for him. 

“What are you doing home this early?” I asked.

“Mr. Jansson was sick, and they couldn’t find a teacher to fill in for him, so they let us go home early,” Lucas said triumphantly. 

“Oh,” I frowned slightly. “Would you rather that I stayed in with you, then?”

“No way,” Lucas said. “I have homework, and then I was thinking....”

“Yes?”

“Can Molly and I go to the movies tonight?” he asked hopefully. 

“On a school night? No, you cannot. But you can ask her to go with you this Saturday.” 

“Fine,” Lucas half-complained. 

I was still wrapping my head around the fact that my fourteen year old son was starting to pay attention to girls. He insisted that Molly was “just a friend”, but I had seen the look in his eyes when he spoke about her. He was clearly quite smitten with her, and while I found it to be absolutely adorable, I also found it to be utterly terrifying. 

“What are we watching?” I asked and nodded towards the screen. 

“Indiana Jones.”

“Oh,” I said, delighted that he wasn’t watching anything too violent. I leaned back on the sofa, ready to relax and watch the movie with him.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to your hair thing?”

“I have an hour before I have to be at the hair salon. Now tell me what I missed of the movie.”

Lucas wholeheartedly began explaining what I had missed of Indiana Jones, and I listened with genuine interest while I scanned my son’s face carefully at the same time. He knew that I had been seeing my   
lawyer to sign the papers that would finalize my divorce from Stephen once and for all, and while I didn’t exactly anticipate my son to have a strong reaction to it, I was still more than prepared to help him through it if he should experience a delayed reaction to it. 

“Mum stop staring at me,” Lucas said, and this time he was more than partially complaining. 

“Why?” I teased. “Can’t I look at my son?”

“It’s creepy,” Lucas said flatly. 

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is,” Lucas said firmly. “And if you don’t stop it, I’ll go upstairs right now.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” I laughed. 

Lucas scowled as we both turned our attention back to the action on screen, but he hadn’t been watching for very long before he asked: “what time are you coming home later?”

“It won’t be very late,” I assured. “First, I’m going to the hairdresser, and then I have the lesson. But that’s only two hours. So I’ll be home in time to make dinner.”

“Cool.”

“Have you called your dad today?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I got his voicemail,” Lucas said and shrugged. “He’s probably at a meeting.”

I nodded. “He’ll call you tonight like he always does.”

“Yeah,” Lucas said. 

Stephen was still an absent father, but it seemed to me that he was trying. He was trying to stay as much in contact with Lucas as he could. He had started to call Lucas regularly, and I was delighted because I wanted Lucas to have a relationship with his father. I hadn’t spoken much to Stephen since he had moved out, and the only things we had discussed were “official matters” concerning the divorce. We were civil to one another, and that was all I could ask for. 

I sighed pleasantly as I tried my best to keep up with Harrison Ford’s shenanigans on screen. 

“...Well, Mrs. Evans. What do you think?” the young brunette asked me as she ran a brush through my hair once last time and then held up a round mirror so I could see the back of my head. 

I smiled as I examined my now chin length hair. No doubt cutting it had been good for it. It seemed so much thicker. Fuller. And definitely healthier. 

“It looks really nice,” I said and flashed the young hairdresser a smile. 

“You have the face for it,” she said briskly as she brushed stray hairs away from my shoulders and then unclipped the gown that had prevented clumps of hair to fall onto my clothes. “I mean, if I had your cheekbones... I’m not sure I’d have any hair at all.”

I chuckled at the backwards compliment. “Thank you, Becky. That’s very kind of you to say.”

She smiled at me and then she pointed me towards the desk where I paid for having my hair washed, cut, dried and then styled. 

I smiled and thanked her again. Then I discreetly checked my watch. Sitting under the hairdryer had taken a bit longer than what I had anticipated, and the hairdresser had been the chatty type. But I still had about twenty five minutes until I had to be at my destination. If I speeded, I could easily manage. 

“Don’t forget to tell people where you had your hair cut,” the hairdresser said as I went towards the door. “And be prepared for having lots of strangers complimenting your hair.”

I laughed. “I certainly hope they will.” But I didn’t. Not really. I was only interested in hearing compliments from two people. My son. And Bliss. 

“And come again for a trim in a couple of months,” the hairdresser added. “Having it trimmed regularly will make your hair even healthier.”

“I’ll remember that. Bye.”

“Bye-bye!”

I chuckled as I left the hair salon and found my car on the parking lot. Once I had gotten into the car, I took a moment to admire my brand-new hair in the mirror. A French bob, the hairdresser had called it. I wasn’t sure whether it was particularly French, but it certainly made me look younger. And for some odd reason I really brought out my eyes. I ran my fingers through it. My hair felt wonderfully soft and full in that particular way it only does when you’ve been at the hairdressers. Yes, I definitely liked this hairstyle. I should have changed my hairstyle years ago. Oh, well, I suppose it’s never too late.

I checked my watch again. Twenty minutes until the lesson. Now I really had to hurry. I quickly started the car and maneuvered it out of the parking lot. This was a very important day, and I didn’t want to be late. That wouldn’t look very good. Let’s hope there will be green light all the way. 

There hadn’t exactly been green light all the way, but I still managed to reach my destination ten minutes before showtime. I was quick to unbuckle my seatbelt and exit the car. I crossed the parking lot in two strides and pried the door to the building open. My shoes echoed as I walked down the hallway. Soon I stopped in front of room number 22. The right room. I smiled a little as I opened the door. All the easels and canvases were standing ready in the room, and there was a faint smell of baking powder. I quickly pried the window open to get the smell out. It was a bit cluttered in here. 

Once that was done, I checked my watch again. The eager art students had to arrive soon. It was almost time to begin the lesson. 

I wandered around in the room and bided my time with checking that everything was there. Color palettes, paint brushes, everything. Then I shrugged off my blazer. Why not make myself comfortable while I waited? I sat my purse down and brushed a hand over the bottle green blouse I was wearing today. Then I chuckled. I had brought a hand up to my face to push my hair away from my eyes, but there wasn’t any hair that could be pushed away anymore. I shook my head over my own foolishness and then I reached inside my purse and found my glasses. Wearing them sometimes made me feel a bit old, but I had to suck it up. I would need to see what was going on, ergo I had to wear the glasses. I checked my watch again, clicked my tongue. Perhaps I should try being late for a change. That would certainly prevent me from walking around aimlessly until everybody arrives. Maybe it’s time to give up some of my ridiculous punctuality. I reached within my purse again and found my phone. I could bide my time with sending a text to Delia. I chuckled as I looked at the picture, she had send me yesterday. Her belly was getting ridiculously big, and she often complained that she looked like a walrus, but in my humble opinion she looked absolutely beautiful. She had that particular pregnancy glow. And she hated when I said it, because she didn’t feel one bit beautiful. She felt like a “seventh month pregnant lady struggling from morning to evening with everything”. I chuckled again as I moved my fingers across the phone screen. I quickly texted her and told her that I had signed the divorce papers today, and it didn’t take long before she texted me back and asked me how I was feeling. I was every bit truthful when I told her that I felt okay. Perhaps even better than okay. Of course it was a little strange, thinking about that I wasn’t Stephen’s wife anymore. That a twenty one long era of my life was officially over, but I wasn’t afraid of what was coming next. I was excited for this new chapter of my life. I stopped with my finger still on the phone screen. Next chapter. It feels a little strange to think about. That I officially have no idea what tomorrow will bring. The routine that used to be my life is officially broken, and I wonder what-

“Hey.”

I yelped and nearly dropped my phone when warm hands landed on my hips. I huffed slightly as I spun around.

She was standing right behind me. Of course she was. She was grinning broadly, and she was wearing the usual, white bathrobe. 

“Don’t do that,” I scolded mildly. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

She ignored that. “I think you’re giving me one right now. Your hair looks amazing. You look amazing.”

“Thank you, Bliss,” I said and touched my hair. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she assured. “And I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I said softly and took her hand in mine. I had only seen Bliss sporadically these past six months. Sometimes I had visited Pauline’s Café and Diner to see her and exchange quick words with her, but we hadn’t been together as such. There hadn’t been time, and I had purposefully kept a low profile. I hadn’t wanted to do something that potentially could have provoked Stephen and make him change his mind about something concerning the divorce, and I hadn’t wanted to make Lucas upset either. So many things were already happening in his life and introducing him to Bliss while I was technically still married to his father was too much, and too soon. 

But I hoped that Lucas and Bliss could meet each other at some point. When Lucas was ready. 

Bliss interrupted my train of thoughts by reaching up and tugging slightly at my now shorter hair. I chuckled slightly as the gesture brought me out of my musings. 

“Are you ready for the class?” Bliss asked. 

“Yes, I think so,” I nodded. 

“And are you gonna be busy afterwards?” she continued almost coyly, but the way she was playing with the strings on my blouse was definitely not coyly. Far from it. 

I chuckled lightly. She already knew the answer. I moved by hands up and rested them on top of hers. “In two months, it’s gonna be you and me in Paris.” 

“And until then, I’m supposed to keep my hands to myself. Is that what you’re saying?” Bliss half-teased as she moved her hand up slightly so said hand was almost cradling my right breast. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” I said and tried not to sound as breathless as I felt.

“Shame,” Bliss said nonchalantly. “I would have loved to touch you right now.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would,” I said and debated whether to move her hand away or not. I didn’t really want too, because the way she touched me felt so good, but at the same time I knew that it most likely was a bad idea to get “handsy” here. And honestly, this was neither the time nor place to reconnect with her. 

The creak coming from the other side of the door made the decision for me. By the time the door opened, Bliss and I were standing within reasonable distance from each other. She was still smirking, though.

I tried to ignore it as I ignored my slightly flushing cheeks. I turned my attention to Gus, Alexandra, Robert and Yvonne who were coming inside the room. All of them were smiling at me, and so were the four other people I only knew by name. Yusuf, Rachel, Victor and Muriel. Muriel was the oldest in the class. She was a very classy looking woman in her sixties, and as far as I could judge, Rachel was the youngest in the class. Well, apart from Bliss. Maybe Rachel was a year or so older than Bliss. 

“Good afternoon,” I smiled.

“Hey, Brittie,” Gus said and winked, exactly like he always did.

“You’re supposed to call her Mrs. Evans,” Alexandra scolded, and mock scowled at Gus. “She’s our teacher now.”

“Right, sorry, Mrs. Evans,” Gus amended and grinned.

“That’s quite alright,” I said and couldn’t keep the amusement out of my voice either. “As you may have noticed, we are a few more people now, so I think we should take the opportunity to say hello to   
Rachel and Yusuf and Victor and Muriel.”

Everyone smiled and greeted the newcomers.

“I’ll hope all of you will enjoy the class,” I said to the four new “students”. 

“I’m sure we will,” Rachel said. “I’m very excited to get started.”

Muttering erupted as everyone agreed. 

“And furthermore, as you all know, I’ll be taking over the classes for Griselda Abbott,” I said.

I earned myself smiles at that. I wasn’t completely sure how he had found out, but Gus had been the first person to text and congratulate me on the new “job”. I suppose he had “nicked” my number from Griselda.

“Well, if there isn’t anyone who has anything to add I think it would be better if we get started,” I said briskly. “We only have two hours at our hands. Chop-chop.”

Gus laughed as everyone unpacked their things. Quite a few of them had brought their own paintbrushes, and there was some scuffling around as they found what they needed. Once everyone were seated and ready to paint, I turned my head and smiled at Bliss to signalize to her. On cue, Bliss disrobed and sat down on the chair that was already standing ready in the room. I glanced briefly at her, and for the first time my decision about agreeing to take over for Griselda, wavered. But then I reminded myself that I was a very professional woman who wouldn’t get affected by the fact that my.... girlfriend was sitting naked less than ten feet from me. 

Girlfriend. I frowned. Was that was Bliss was? We hadn’t exactly talked about it, and here I was, thinking of her as my girlfriend. I wonder if she will mind that? Perhaps it was a tad childish to call her my “girlfriend”. Wasn’t girlfriends something kids of my son’s age had? Grown women didn’t have “girlfriends”, did they? I briefly looked at Bliss as I considered which label would be fitting then. Partner? No, too formal. I shook my head slightly as I turned my attention back to my “students”.

Companion? No. It sounds ridiculous. Lover? I almost shivered. No, definitely not. Too... Less formal. Too revealing. 

I shook my head as I abandoned finding a “label”. Right now wasn’t the time to speculate about that. I had far more important things to take care off. Like my “students”.

I looked at “my class” as they made the first brush strokes against their canvases, and I was suddenly taken back to the first time I attended one of Griselda’s lessons. How nervous and insecure I had been. 

And- I almost chuckled- how I had dropped my pencil on the floor when Bliss had disrobed. It seemed like such a long time ago now.

Much of Griselda’s job had consisted of walking around, I realized as I walked around between the “students” to see how they were doing. Gus and Alexandra were excelling as usual. 

“That looks very nice, Gus,” I complimented as I passed him. 

“Thanks, Britt- Mrs. Evans. Good thing you decided to become the teacher instead. That really gives the rest of us a chance,” he chuckled. 

I chuckled too and shook my head slightly in mock disapproval. 

Gus went back to his work, and I continued my walk around between the eager painters. I could tell that Muriel struggled, so I stopped by her little “panting station”.

“Do you need any help, Muriel?” I asked and smiled at her. 

“It’s her arm,” Muriel said frustrated and shook her head. “I can’t get it to cooperate.”

I chuckled a little. “Try and start with painting her hand instead of her shoulder. It’s easier that way. The curve of her arm will come more naturally.”  
Muriel nodded, frown softening. “I’ll try that.”

I hovered by her side for a few minutes to see how she was getting on, and once I deemed, she had gotten the hang of it, I continued my little walk. I didn’t take me long to spot that Yusuf was a diamond in the rough. He had some real talent, and I didn’t hesitate to praise him as I passed his “painting station”. He smiled at me and said: “Thank you, Mrs. Evans.”  
I was still getting used to that. I was still getting used to being Mrs. Evans instead of Mrs. Benson, and I was still getting used to the fact that I was the one in charge over this class. I was the teacher. It was so strange. I had been very hesitant when Griselda had first called me and suggested that I took over, and I hadn’t been completely sure whether to say yes or no. But in the end Lucas had convinced me. 

Of course he had. That boy could talk me into just about anything. 

I had reached the desk Griselda often had sat on when she took a break from walking around between her students and preferred to sit and watch them instead. Now I did the same. I perched myself on the desk and turned my head so I could smile at Bliss. She smiled back, and there was something in her smile besides affection. An underlying meaning only meant for me. Like she and I were sharing a secret. I almost chuckled as I let my gaze linger on her body for a little longer than what could be deemed appropriate. I missed touching her. I missed tracing every curve with my fingertip. And I missed sleeping with her without sleeping with her like I had done that damned night at the hotel. That was the last time I had been close to her before Stephen and I had gone through the long process of getting divorced, and now as I looked at her, I could really feel how much I missed touching her and being close to her. I allowed my gaze to roam over her naked body for a little longer. If I couldn’t touch her, at least I could drink in the image of her as she sat there naked with her legs crossed and leaning forward slightly. I tried not to stare too long at her breasts. That would definitely not be appropriate. Nor would it be appropriate to look too long at the shimmering red gemstone in her belly button. I swallowed something, straightened my posture and then I reminded myself that I didn’t have to wait long. 

Only two more months, and she and I would be in Paris together. For two whole weeks. The plane tickets had been booked. The hotel room had been booked. Lucas was going camping with Trevor and his family. The timing couldn’t have been better. Obviously, I had been a nervous wreck when I had stutteringly told Lucas that Bliss and I had talked about going on holiday together sometimes. In the future. It had been so long since I last had been anywhere, and...

Lucas had laughed heartedly as he interrupted me and said that he understood. And then he had teased a bit as he had asked if this was my way of asking for his “blessing”. At the time, my sense of humor had failed utterly, and I had hastily backpedaled and mumbled excuses. 

But the next evening, Lucas had casually mentioned that he would like to go camping with Trevor in a few months. His voice had been thick with underlying meaning, and it was obvious that he was waiting for me to connect the dots. 

Which I had. Two days later. That’s when I had asked him what he would think if I went on a holiday with Bliss. He had laughed, called me dense and then said that yes, I could go on a holiday with Bliss. It was completely fine with him. 

I had hesitated one more week, and then I had asked him again. Just to make sure. But his answer had been the same. I should absolutely go on a holiday with Bliss. I had deserved that, he said. And I noted that he sounded relieved. But it wasn’t until later, that I realized that he didn’t feel comfortable with knowing that I would be alone in the house for two long weeks. 

So I had called Bliss and asked her to go with me to Paris. She had screeched into the phone and said yes right away. Decision made. 

I smiled a little as I looked at my working painting class. Everyone looked so concentrated, and I felt quite proud of them. And I felt quite proud of myself too. Of course I couldn’t be absolutely certain, but it felt as though I was doing a fairly good job at being “the teacher”. Griselda would be proud of me. 

I discreetly checked my watch. There was only an hour left of the lesson. Amazing how fast time flies. Perhaps I have spent a little too long looking at Bliss after all.......

*******************

“Goodbye, Mrs. Evans.”

“See you next Tuesday, Mrs. Evans.”

“Thank you for today, Mrs. Evans. I really learned a lot.”

“See you around, Brittie! Come to The Bearded Frog with us sometimes.”

“We’ll see,” I said and smiled at Gus. 

“See you next Tuesday, Ella,” Alexandra smiled.

“See you, Alexandra.”

I smiled at Yvonne and Yusuf and Robert as they left. Rachel took the opportunity to thank me one more time, and Muriel assured me that she would most certainly come back next Tuesday. I was very happy to hear that. 

Today’s lesson had been a success, and now I felt immensely proud of myself as I smiled at everybody and wished them a good Tuesday. As opposed to Griselda, I wasn’t gonna be the last one to leave. I   
preferred to stay behind and make sure that everyone left. I wouldn’t want to accidentally lock someone in or anything. 

With Gus being the last one to leave, I closed the door behind him and then took one last look around in the room to ensure that everyone had remembered their stuff. It didn’t look like anything had been left behind by accident. The only thing left for me to do, was switching off the light. Which I had every intention of doing. In a moment. When I had processed things a little. I was still in awe. To think that everything had gone so well today. I would have to tell Griselda that when I spoke to her. Obviously, she had been right all along. I was fully capable of doing this. I smiled a little. I had a job now. A job I happened to love. And the money were decent too. Overall, it couldn’t be better.

“Thank you for today, Mrs. Evans.”

I turned around to come face to face with the last person left. “Cheeky,” I commented as Bliss fully emerged from the little dressing room. She had traded the thin, white robe for a pair of red skinny jeans that seemed to fit her like a glove and a purple tanktop with thin spaghetti straps.

She grinned. “I do believe you’ve got the crowd, Mrs. Evans.”

“I think today went rather well,” I nodded. 

“Went rather well,” she sweetly mocked. “It went fucking fantastic, Ella.”

I chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

Bliss ran a finger through her wild curls as she bridged the distance between us and put her hands on my hips again. “You were looking at me,” she softly accused.

“You’re right, I was.” I completely agreed with her. 

“It felt really good,” Bliss said plainly. 

“Did it indeed?” 

“Mhmm.” She kissed me. Just like that. No hesitation, no holding back. 

I returned her kiss, and my hands slipped up to cup her cheeks. Her lips were so soft against my own, and it felt so good to kiss her again. It had been too long since I had last kissed her, and now I could   
feel how much I had missed it. 

I wouldn’t have minded to kiss her for a few hours (or a few days), but soon two things interrupted us. The first being me remembering that my son was waiting for me, and the second being the noise   
coming from my phone. 

Bliss groaned as she broke the kiss. 

“I’m willing to bet all my paintbrushes that it’s my mother in law calling me. Ex mother in law.”

“Again?” Bliss said disbelievingly. 

“Mmm,” I said as I wiggled the phone out of my pocket and checked the number. It was indeed Allison trying to reach me. Even though her calls had lessened considerably the last month or so, she still tried to reach me now and then. As she had done shortly after we had announced to Stephen’s family that he and I were gonna divorce. Stephen had refused to tell his mother the reason why we were divorcing, he was far too embarrassed to tell anyone, and while I appreciated that he didn’t go around and flapped his gums about something that was my business, I had more than once thought that perhaps it would have been better if he actually had told his mother the reason why he and I were divorcing. Because ever since he had announced the divorce to his mother, Allison had been calling me regularly, more or less demanding answers. 

Answers I had refused to give her. Plain and simple. I didn’t feel like I owed Allison any explanation, and I had begun to ignore her calls. Perhaps I would have to change my number, but the hell with it. Small price to pay for being happy. 

“Want me to walk you to your car?” Bliss asked. 

“That would be nice,” I smiled. 

She returned my smile as she took my hand and we walked out of the room.

“Call me later?” Bliss asked hopefully. We had reached the parking lot, and now we were shamelessly dawdling. Neither one of us were quite ready to leave. 

“Of course. It might be very late, but-“

“That doesn’t matter,” Bliss interrupted. “You know me. I’m a night owl. I’ll most likely be in my basement and work on my next project.”

I chuckled. “And I’m looking forward to seeing each and every one of them.”

“I’m looking forward to showing you them,” Bliss said. “And possibly talk you into a little Ghost reenactment.”

“You are bad,” I said before I could stop myself, and then I blushed slightly at my own words.

“And you are the sexiest woman on earth.”

“Bliss!”

“What? I thought we were saying truths,” she teased. 

“Don’t be daft,” I warned. 

“Don’t be British.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I can’t just not be British.”

“Exactly,” Bliss snickered, and I rolled my eyes when I realized that I had walked directly into her little trap. 

“You’re awful,” I told her. 

She chuckled again. “I’m looking forward to talking to you later.” 

“Mmm, me, too.” 

“Now go,” Bliss said and leaned forward and bussed my lips once. “Go home to your son.” 

“Alright, alright. I will.” 

“And drive safely,” she added. 

“I always do,” I said and smiled. We may not have said those three little words yet, at least not officially, but it felt as though we had said it in a million different ways already. 

“See you around, Mrs. Evans,” Bliss joked. 

“Indeed you will,” I said and patted her cheek once. Then I got into my car and put my seatbelt on. I lingered on the parking lot and watched as she climbed into her little yellow car and drove away. The woman I was in love with. The quirky, amazing woman obsessed with yellow who had opened my eyes in more than one way. My Bliss.

I paused with one hand on the wheel. My Bliss. Perhaps that was the correct label to use when I introduced her to someone....


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

Two months later-

“We’ll make it,” Delia assured as I glanced at my watch once more. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” I said and quickly looked up from my watch. 

“No, you’re not,” Delia said. “You are nervous and jumpy.”

“I am not,” I protested, but Delia was probably right. 

“It’s not a trip to the moon, Ella. It’s only two weeks in Paris,” Delia said. 

“I know. The most dauting thing in the world.”

Delia chuckled as we reached another turnabout. 

I tried not to look at my watch again. Delia was right. I was nervous and jumpy. And not because I was about to embark on a journey with Bliss, but because I kept imagining that something would come up at the very last minute. Something that could prevent us from leaving. I knew it was silly, but I had been looking forward to this trip for such a long time now. And I kept dreaming that something would happen. Something that meant we would have to postpone the trip. 

“Burlington Airport,” Delia announced, and I looked up. She was right. Burlington Airport was indeed coming into view. 

“Thank you again for driving me. Even though you didn’t have to,” I said. 

“Nonsense,” Delia said lightly and brushed my protest aside. 

I shook my head. She barely fitted behind the wheel. Her due date was in two weeks, and here she was, driving me to the airport anyway. She wasn’t in her right mind. 

“How did Bliss get here?” Delia asked. 

“I think she took the bus,” I said a bit distractedly and fiddled with my hands in my lap. 

Delia sighed gravely and shook her head. “Okay, this is ridiculous. Would you relax? You are as jittery-“

“I am not jittery.”

“Then stop acting like you have ants in your pants, please.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Maybe, but a fitting description. You’re making the pregnant lady nervous,” Delia teased. “You’ll send me into early labors.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Ella, relax,” Delia said a bit gentler. “Everything will be fine.”

“I know it will,” I said quickly. “It’s just... I’ve never...” 

“You’re going with Bliss,” Delia said softly. “Bliss you happen to be completely infatuated with.”

I smiled a little at that. She was right about that too.

“And either way it’s too late to change your mind now,” Delia quipped as she parked the car in front of the airport.

“I have no intention of changing my mind,” I said firmly as I unbuckled my seatbelt and then exited the car.

Delia did the same, and I immediately reminded her that she shouldn’t walk around too much in her condition. 

“Nonsense,” Delia said briskly. “Walking is good for me. It prevents blood clots. And I want to meet your girl.”

“She’s not my-“

“Yes, she is,” Delia laughed. “Now come on. You have to check in your luggage too.” 

“I’m coming,” I said as I opened the trunk of the car and hauled my suitcase out. I had packed and repacked three times. At first, I thought I had been bringing too little, so I had repacked, but then I had realized that I was probably packing too much, and so I had unpacked and done it all again. It had been quite the circus, and I had earned myself some comments from Lucas. Lucas, who had been completely fine with this. Lucas who had almost snapped at me when I had asked two more times just to make sure he really was alright with this. Yes, mum, he had drawled. I really am okay with you going, alright? You don’t have to ask me fifty times to make sure. 

I hadn’t asked him fifty times. He was exaggerating. 

Delia lead the way as we walked inside the airport. There weren’t that many people. Most likely because it was a weekday. 

I glanced around, searching for that familiar face, and I felt a twinge of panic when I didn’t find who I was looking for. Suppose she isn’t here? Suppose something went wrong after all? Oh god, something definitely went wrong. We’ll have to cancel. We’ll have to postpone the trip, exactly like I predicted. I knew something would get in the way of our plans. I just knew it. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so optimistic. I should have remained realistic instead. That way I wouldn’t have been so disappointed now. 

Delia gave me a slight nudge, and I looked up just in time to see Bliss coming towards us with her suitcase dragging behind her. She looked as perfect as ever in her baby blue jeans, purple V-neck sweater and a bright orange scarf tied around her hair. Another gloriously odd color combination from her. 

“Hey,” she said and flashed me a beaming smile.

“Hello,” I parroted, and relief was seeping through my voice. 

Bliss turned her attention to Delia. “You must be Delia, right?”

“That’s right,” Delia confirmed and outstretched a hand. “Delia Wright.”

“Bliss Edwards,” Bliss said as they shook hands. 

“Yes, I know,” Delia said and smirked a little “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Bliss glanced at me. “Really?”

“Of course,” I confirmed. I had spoken a lot about Bliss to Delia.

“Are you ready to go to Paris?” Bliss asked, and her coffee colored eyes radiated warmth as she looked at me. 

“More than ready,” I said. I had in fact been ready for a while. 

Bliss smiled as our gazes locked, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to take her in my arms right now. Public place be damned. 

Delia chuckled. “Alright, lovebirds. I better leave you to it.”

That broke the “spell”, and I quickly turned my head to look at my best friend. “It is it even worth it asking you to keep that baby in until I get back from Paris?”

“I won’t promise anything,” Delia said as she rubbed her swollen belly. “But I’ll certainly try my best. And if I don’t succeed, I expect you to come and visit me and the baby when you get back.” 

“I’d love that.”

“You too, by the way,” Delia said over my shoulder to Bliss. 

“Seriously?” Bliss asked a bit disbelievingly over the spontaneous invitation.

“Absolutely,” Delia said firmly as she gave me a hug. “I want to get to know you. Make sure you’re treating Ella right and all that.”

“Delia!” I protested. 

“That’s very considerate of you,” Bliss chuckled. “And I’d love to come and visit you sometimes.”

“Good. That’s settled then,” Delia said briskly as she released me. “Go and check in your luggage. I wouldn’t want you to miss the plane.”

“Thank you, Delia,” I said. “For every-“

“Nonsense,” Delia said firmly. “No thank you’s required.”

“But-“

“Go to Paris and have an amazing time,” she interrupted. “You deserve that. You more than deserve that.”

With that she said her goodbye and left the airport. 

I hadn’t slept much that night, so everything that happened was a bit of a blur. We checked in our luggage. We went through security. We waited to board our flight. And before I could fully grasp what was happening, we were sitting in the plane on our way to Chicago. First Chicago, then Stockholm and finally Charles De Gaulle airport. I shook my head slightly. It seemed almost impossible that I was on my way to Paris. With Bliss. I could barely believe it. 

But my disbelief was soon vanquished when warm fingers interlaced with my own. I looked up to meet Bliss’ coffee colored gaze. 

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hi,” I parroted. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were nervous,” she said gently, but there was a slight wrinkle between her eyes. 

“Perhaps I am,” I said honestly. “It’s been many years since I last travelled anywhere.”

“Oh,” Bliss said, and the wrinkle between her eyes disappeared. “So, you’re not nervous about travelling with me?”

“Of course I’m not,” I said firmly and gave her hand a little squeeze. 

Bliss visibly relaxed at that, and then she was leaning closer so she could almost rest her head on my shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

I chuckled softly at that. We had seen each other every Tuesday at the art lessons, but I understood what she meant. There hadn’t been a lot of time for “one on one” time. And I had missed that too. When   
I told her that, she answered by leaning closer to me. Now she actually was sitting with her head resting on my shoulder, but I didn’t care about that. And I doubted anyone else did. 

I stretched my neck so I could look out of the window. Burlington Airport was getting smaller and smaller. It had been quite a while since I last had been on a plane, and right now I couldn’t remember whether I liked flying or not. 

Bliss sighed contentedly. Her curly hair tickled my cheek slightly, but I’d rather jump out of the plane than ask her to move her head. 

“I do believe we’re in the air,” she said and grinned a little.

“I do believe you’re right about that,” I said and returned her grin. She sounded like she couldn’t quite believe we were on our way either. 

The little sign above us dinged, indicating that we were now allowed to unbuckle our seatbelts and use our phones again. I retrieved mine from my pocket and smiled a little when I saw the Facebook message Lucas had sent me. He was wishing us a good trip. Both of us. That made me my heart melt just a little bit. 

“Anything important?” Bliss asked almost nervously. 

“Lucas wishes us a good trip,” I said and beamed. 

“That was sweet of him,” Bliss said and smiled too.

“He was actually asking about you yesterday,” I said.

“Yeah? And what was he... What was he saying?” Bliss asked, now nervous again. 

“He was indicating that he wants to meet you,” I said truthfully. 

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Oh god,” Bliss said and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she lifted her head slightly. “Now I’m terrified.”

I laughed. “You don’t have any reason to be. Lucas isn’t dangerous.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Bliss muttered.

“Why wouldn’t he? You’re smart, funny, quick witted and not to mention incredibly spunky. What’s not to like?”

“Spunky?” Bliss repeated and chuckled. “I don’t know why, but that makes you sound ten times more British.”

“Is that so?” I teased. “Well, I’m chuffed to bits about that.”

“Don’t tempt me...” Bliss warned. 

“Tempt you to what, exactly?”

“I’m sure you don’t want to know that,” Bliss said and lowered her voice conspiratorially.

I cleared my throat and pushed a lock of my own hair behind my ear. I was fairly certain that I was blushing just a little. And I was fairly certain that Bliss could see it too, because she sniggered and gave   
my hand another squeeze. Her laughter was enough to make something curl low in my belly, and I had to firmly remind myself that I was a grown woman and not a hormonal teenager. I was still coming to terms with my newfound desire. According to other “laterbians”- women who came out later in life- this was completely normal. A second puberty, I had read online that it was called. At first it had made me laugh long and heartedly, but then I had considered it and reached the conclusion that there could be something right about it. 

“What are you thinking ‘bout?” Bliss asked, interrupting my musings. 

“Nothing important,” I assured her.

“You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Good,” she said plainly, and then she was resting her head on my shoulder again. Maybe she was tired too. Maybe she hadn’t slept much either. 

I looked out of the window again, but this time I couldn’t see anything but clouds, so I glanced at the woman sitting next to me and smiled a little. She was really here. We were really here. 

If I had felt tired when I arrived at Burlington Airport, it was nothing compared to how I felt when we arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport. I was completely lightheaded. It felt as though I had left bits of me behind in Chicago Airport, and other bits in Stockholm Airport. I felt like I was drunk, but I somehow managed to find our luggage and hand Bliss her suitcase. She looked rather tired too, and her orange scarf was a bit crooked. 

“Who knew travelling was this exhausting,” she joked as we left the airport. I was grateful to be outside again. Even if the sunshine was a tad too bright for my tired eyes. But I knew we were gonna appreciate the sunshine later on. That’s why we had chosen to go in May. 

We relatively quickly found a cab, and my voice was somewhat raspy when I said: “Hôtel Duquesne Eiffel, merci.”

“Oui, Madame,” the cab driver said and then smiled at Bliss. “Mademoiselle.”

“Bonjour,” Bliss said. She sounded rather raspy herself. 

The cab driver was the chatty type who enjoyed conversing as he drove away from the airport. He wanted to know if Bliss and I had ever been in Paris before, how long we were staying, and what we were planning on seeing while we were there. I tried to answer him as best I could, but he spoke very fast, and more than once I had to ask him to repeat the question. 

“I should have paid better attention during those French lessons,” I said quietly when there finally was a break in the conversation. 

Bliss snickered. “I don’t know much French, but it sounds like you’re doing fine.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“And you sound quite sexy too,” she added innocently.

“Bliss!” I protested and was sure I was flushing again. 

“Trés trés sexy,” she said and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Be quiet,” I said, but I couldn’t help chuckling slightly. 

She smirked in that playful manner I so adored, and had I been standing up, I would have felt my knees buckle right now. 

The cab driver said something again, and I eagerly answered his question. I was grateful to have something else to think about. Something that took my attention away from the whisper of arousal I could   
feel coursing through my body. 

Bliss looked every bit innocent as she leaned back. But the way she squeezed my hand was not quite as innocent. Nor was the way she smirked when our eyes met every so often. 

I reminded myself that this was a cab. And that I had waited eight months for this. I could wait a little longer. Of course I could. Even if Bliss made it very difficult. 

As on cue, she smirked again. 

Hôtel Duquesne Eiffel looked exactly as nice as it had in the photos, I had seen of it. Not too big, not too small. Very appropriate for Bliss and I. My head still felt floaty as we made it inside and went up to the desk. The hotel clerk flashed us a professional smile. “Comment puis-je vous aider?”

“Réservation pour Ella Evans?” I said.

“Ah, oui,” he nodded and reached under the desk to find a keycard and some paperwork. “Êtes-vous américain?”

“Oui,” I confirmed as I accepted the pen, he was handing me so I could sign the paperwork. 

“On holiday?” he asked in a rather thick accent. 

“Yeah,” Bliss said and flashed him a smile. 

“I hope you will enjoy your stay in Paris,” he said, and I chuckled as I said I was certain we would. The way he said Paris was rather charming. “Parii”.

“Room number 56. With a view,” he said and flashed us another smile. 

“Thank you,” Bliss and I said almost in unison. 

Room 56 was indeed a room with a view. The thin, white curtains had been pulled back, and the first thing I noticed when I stepped inside the room, was the fact that we could see the Eiffel Tower. 

“Holy...” Bliss said and whistled softly. 

“This is lovely,” I agreed as I stepped out of my shoes and gratefully wriggled my feet.

“Mmm, I really like the bed,” Bliss said softly as also toed off her shoes and then slipped an arm around my waist.

“So do I,” I said and laughed as I eyed the queen sized bed. The bed was covered with a red bedspread and stuffed with large pillows. It had been made so carefully, it would almost be a shame to sleep in   
the bed. Or not sleep in it. My stomach curled again. I tried to shake the thoughts out of my mind by taking a more throughout look at the room. The wallpaper was dusky pink, very sweet. There was a little television in the corner of the room, but I doubted we would use it. We didn’t come to Paris to watch television. 

Bliss released my waist and dragged her suitcase over to the little dresser. I should probably start unpacking some my clothes too, to prevent it from getting crinkled, but I ended up sitting down on the edge of the bed instead. I was too tired to unpack anything right now, and the urge to simply lay down and do what my jetlagged mind screamed for, was overwhelming. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Bliss warned as she looked back at me over her shoulder. “It’ll only screw your sense of time up completely.”

“I don’t care,” I mumbled, and right now I believed it. I was so exhausted. Even too exhausted to send a picture of the room to Lucas like I had promised him. I buried my head in my hands and closed my eyes. My eyelids felt heavy. Every part of me felt heavy. Why couldn’t I just fall asleep a little? Just a quick nap.

Bliss chuckled as she abandoned her suitcase and turned around. It didn’t take long before she was prying my hands away from my face. I reluctantly lifted my head and opened my eyes to look at her. 

“How about a shower?” she suggested. “I’m sure that’ll freshen you up.”

“I doubt anything will freshen me up,” I quipped. “But perhaps a shower wouldn’t be half bad.”

“Of course it wouldn’t. Come on, Mrs. Evans,” Bliss joked as she gently hauled me up. 

I followed her into the bathroom, and for a moment both of us could only look around in awe at the gold tabs and marble sink and the soft, white towels. But the next second, I had forgotten all about golden tabs and marble sinks and fluffy white towels. Bliss was lifting her top and then pulling it over it her head. My mouth went completely dry when she revealed that she was not wearing a bra. My legs felt weak again, and my head floaty once more, but this time for very different reasons. 

Bliss smiled a little as she started fiddling with the button in her jeans, and I woke from my trance and walked over to her. I could feel how her breath quickened as I gently put my hands on her bare stomach. 

“Can I help you?” I asked as I gently pushed her fingers away from the button in her jeans and replaced them with my own.

“You don’t have to ask,” Bliss said and the way she licked her lips made the desire flicker within me. 

More than satisfied with that answer, I unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them. She wiggled slightly as I tugged them down over her bottom, and once they were pooling by her ankles, she took my hands and placed them on her bare stomach again. 

“I’ve missed this,” she said thickly. “I’ve missed feeling you touch me.”

“I’ve missed that too,” I said gently and traced my finger around the shimmering gemstone in her belly button. 

While I still had my hands on her stomach, her fingers travelled up, and she began to unbutton my blouse. Her movements were featherlight as she gently twisted the buttons and manipulated them through the buttonholes. It didn’t take long before my blouse was completely unbuttoned, and I moved my hands away from her stomach so she could slide it down my shoulders. I could feel the goosebumps erupt on my skin, and it didn’t help much when Bliss brushed her hands over my bare arms. Then my shoulders, and down my front. She didn’t touch my breasts with purpose, she only grazed them as she moved her hands down my stomach and then began fiddling with the side zipper in my skirt. Soon the skirt became loose around my waist, and when Bliss pushed it down my legs, I stepped out of it. I could feel new goosebumps erupt on my bare legs now. 

Bliss’ hands quickly travelled up, crawled behind me and then she was unclasping my bra. I shivered slightly as she peeled the garment off my body and dumped it on the floor. 

“You are exactly as beautiful as I remember,” Bliss said. 

“Stop it,” I mildly scolded as I looked at her. God, she was beautiful as she stood there, wearing only her grey panties. I suddenly couldn’t remember why we were in the bathroom. Why be in here when we could be laying in the enormous bed in the other room? Why was I standing mutely here and looking at her when I could be on top of her and touch every inch of her? Trace my fingers along her every curve. Explore her body in a way I hadn’t done before. And why was I nodding yes when she asked me if I wanted to take a shower? Why was I hooking my fingers in the waistband of my panties and stepping out of them? And why was I still standing mutely and looking at her as she did the same? And why did I let her take my hand and guide me into the shower, when I should be the one taking her hand and leading her back to the other room and the enormous bed?

I found no answers. But one thing I did know. It felt good when Bliss switched the tab on, and a steady stream of warm water started pouring down upon us. Bliss slipped her arms around me again. But only for a moment. Soon her hands were travelling up and gently kneading the knot in my shoulder. I groaned slightly.

“So tense,” she commented as she used the pad of her finger to loosen the knot. 

“I’ve been quite stressed these past months,” I said truthfully. 

“I know,” she murmured behind me. “Good thing you have me to loosen you up, then.”

“Yes, that is a very good thing,” I quickly agreed and moaned slightly when she pressed her fingertips against the knot once more. 

“Am I pressing too hard?” she asked, and I felt her lips on the top of my shoulder.

“No-no, it’s fine. More than fine.”

“Good. But let me know if I’m manhandling you, okay?” 

I chuckled and the sound was almost drowned by the stream of water. Manhandling. That’s a new one for sure. 

But funny words aside, Bliss was not manhandling me. Quite the reverse. The way she kneaded my shoulders felt absolutely incredible, and I could feel her touches in more places than just my shoulders. I   
didn’t say anything about that, though. Instead I simply enjoyed the stream of warm water and finally having her this close. 

“Still sleepy?” Bliss asked. 

“Mmm, a little. Tell me, are you secretly a masseuse or something like that?”

She chuckled. “Nope. But I actually took a class in it once.”

“Right. Of course you did.”

“It’s true,” she claimed as she pressed down on another knot in my back. 

“I’m sure it is,” I said with more sincerity. I actually wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. 

I closed my eyes as I turned my face towards the stream of hot water. This felt so good. Like I could finally put the past eight months of stress behind me. There had been so many things I had to take   
care of, so many practical things to think of, but now it felt like the stress was slowly being washed away. I was in Paris. I was with Bliss. As much I struggled to believe it, it actually was true. 

Bliss’ hands disappeared from my back, traveled to my front and then she was cupping my right breast lightly. I licked my lips and automatically leaned into the touch. That felt very, very good. Bliss’ hand was slipping slightly on my wet skin, and the water streaming down did interesting things to me. It somehow added to the sensation, and I didn’t feel one bit groggy when I felt Bliss’ hand slip lower and cup me. I let out a breathy moan as I considered how to bring myself closer to her hand without tripping. 

“I’ve missed you,” Bliss murmured into my shoulder. Her voice was barely audible through the water pouring down, and to be perfectly honest it wasn’t her voice I was paying the most attention to. It was her fingers and the way they were slowly stroking me. I moaned again. 

“Yeah, I’ve missed that sound too,” Bliss said. I felt her lips on my shoulder. 

“Mmm,” I said. That was all I could get out. I rocked my hips slightly, nearly slipping on the wet tiles, but that didn’t worry me much. At that moment, I was very willing to risk falling if it meant that I would get more friction. 

“Careful,” Bliss said gently as she moved her hand some, so it was nestled more firmly between my thighs, and her fingertips barely brushing against my clit. “I don’t want you to fall.”

I just moaned again and pushed my hips forward, eager for more stimulation, but while the bathroom was beautiful, there wasn’t a lot of room in the shower. It was quite frustrating, really. And even more so when those fingers disappeared from between my thighs. I moaned, frustrated this time. Why was she teasing me like this? Surely, that wasn’t fair?

“Turn around,” Bliss said. “But be careful. Don’t slip.”

I did what she asked and turned around. And for a moment I forgot to think about the absence of her fingers. She looked so beautiful with her hair wet and body glistening because of the water. Despite the warm water, her nipples were hard, and I outstretched a hand to touch her, I wanted her to feel what I was feeling right now.

But Bliss caught my hand, kissed my palm and then said: “lean back against the wall.”

Once again, I did what she asked and leaned back against the wall. I wasn’t quite sure how we both were gonna fit when she closed the distance between us, but I ignored it. Right now, my most dominating thought was having her close to me. I wanted to feel her breasts pressed against my own, I wanted to feel her thigh being slipped in between my legs. But it didn’t happen. Instead of coming closer, Bliss smiled mischievously at me as she reached above us and freed the showerhead from its holder. I didn’t even get the chance to ask what she was doing before she positioned the shower head and turned it slightly, so the stream of water was aimed directly at my clit. 

I gasped, sharply and surprised, and Bliss smirked again. “Feels good?”

“Mmm... Hmm,” I managed. “God!”

“You look so hot right now,” Bliss breathed. “So fucking hot!” 

Had the situation been any different, I would have laughed at the vulgarity, but right now laughing was just about the furthest thing on my mind. I wiggled my hips and spread my legs to give better access to where I was throbbing and aching for stimuli. 

Bliss moved the showerhead, and then she was adjusting something slightly. The next second, I gasped sharply once more as the pressure on my clit intensified considerably. Oh god, oh god, oh god! I twisted my wrist slightly, so I could press my palm flat against the slippery, wet tiles behind me. The position was a bit too precarious, really, but I trusted Bliss. She wouldn’t let me fall. 

“Oh, god!” I hissed. 

“Mmm,” Bliss breathed in response, and then I felt her fingers on my wrist. I wasn’t completely sure when I had closed my eyes, or exactly what she wanted me to do, but I trusted her, and let her guide me. She gently moved my hands away from the wall and placed them on her shoulders instead. I dug my fingers into her shoulders and moaned sharply as the water was being adjusted once more. The pressure on my clit intensified. It was almost unbearable, and for a moment I wasn’t completely sure that I could take it, but then I felt that particular tightening low in belly. Something was building inside me. The sound slipping past my lips was almost a whine, but I didn’t care. I was far too gone, far too wrapped up in the thrums of pleasure swirling low in my belly. I moved my pelvis slightly, tilted it upwards and spread my legs wider. The way the water hit my sensitive clit left my breathless and unable to speak or think. I barely knew where I was. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t care much either. I just knew that the stream of water was hitting me perfectly every time, and I knew that what was to come was going to be intense. I could feel a particular, slight burning sensation in my heels. A murmur of what was about to happen. A promise of what was to come, and what I couldn’t prevent from happening even though I would have liked to hold back just a little. I moaned. Perhaps I even managed to say her name, because I heard her say mine. 

I tightened my grip on Bliss’ shoulders, and only now I became aware that she was in fact still talking to me. Murmuring sweet nothings while she made sure that the firm stream of water hit my clit. I was unable to fully decipher what she was saying, but I heard words like “that’s it”, “beautiful”, “need this”, “let go”, “wanna hear you”. 

I yelped when I felt the showerhead being twisted slightly once more, and the stream of water became even more intense. Another moan spilled from my lips, and either I was going to die in a second, or I was going to combust on the spot. The feeling could be compared to having the air wrung out of your lungs and then swiftly refilled. My breath was ragged pants and my fingers still gripping Bliss’ shoulders began to hurt slightly as I chased my climax.

“Bliss!”

“Yes, Ella!” she breathed back. “Go on, come for me, beautiful! Let it all out! God, you look so beautiful like this. Come for me, come for me right now!”

My jaw fell open, but I couldn’t say anything. I could only feel as the muscles between my legs clenched, and my pelvic moved on its own accord as the pressure finally became too much, and my desire overflowed as I hissed her name sharply. My thighs quaked and my grip on Bliss’ shoulders became impossibly tight for a moment as a warm rush of pleasure coursed through my body. My eyes were still squeezed firmly shut, but I could nevertheless see white lights popping. I had this bubbly feeling in my body, and however ridiculous it sounded, I started laughing. Not loudly, just soft chuckles that somehow managed to slip past my lips. I had little control over it. I had little control over anything right now. God, that was intense! I wasn’t sure I had quite “landed” yet, so to speak. 

The stream of water changed. Became less intense but didn’t disappear completely. I moaned raggedly at the soft stimulation, and then I flexed my stiff fingers once before finally loosening my grip on Bliss’ shoulders. My head fell forward, and if it hadn’t been for my grip on her shoulders, I would have fallen face first. 

I finally found myself capable of opening my eyes. Everything was a bit blurry at first, but when I looked up and met her gaze, Bliss’ eyes were significantly darker than before. She licked her lips once, twice, and then she moved the showerhead and fastened it in its holder once more. I noted that I wasn’t the only one with trembling hands.

“Welcome to Paris,” she said simply and smirked at me. 

I chuckled again, without fully knowing where the sound came from. This was so unusual for me. I wasn’t the type who laughed after intimacy. I’d never been. But perhaps Bliss was changing that too. 

“You certainly know how to... Welcome someone,” I said half-heartedly and still struggling to come back to earth. 

It was Bliss’ turn to laugh as she leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to the hinge of my jaw. 

“That was...”

“Not something you’ve done many times?” Bliss slyly suggested. 

I nodded slightly. She was right. I couldn’t say that I had used the showerhead for this many times.

She chuckled again.

“You were right,” I said and tried to find my voice again. “That was more refreshing than taking a nap. But I don’t think I’m very clean, to be honest.”

Bliss snickered as she handed me the bottle of body wash. “Want me to help ya?”

“Oh no,” I said jokingly. “Otherwise I think we’ll end up staying in the shower all morning.”

“And what would be so bad about that?”

I chuckled as I popped the lid off the bottle. “I don’t think we came to Paris to stay in the shower.”

“I dunno, right now I’m starting to doubt it,” Bliss teased as I rubbed a dollop of the body wash into my skin. 

I laughed again, heartedly and then offered to give her skin the same treatment. But she refused and claimed that she didn’t want to “tire me”.

“You think I’m that old?” I teased.

“Definitely not, but to be honest you look a bit...”

“Tired?” I offered. “Yes, I certainly feel tired.”

“You know, maybe we should take that nap after we’ve finished our shower,” Bliss mused. 

“That sounds reasonable to me,” I nodded. 

“Mmm,” Bliss said, and then she was slipping an arm around my waist again. Which make it a bit tricky to shower, but I didn’t care about that. I was more than satisfied with feeling her so close to me, and   
I desperately wished that I’d had the strength to reciprocate, but unfortunately my strength was quickly failing me. The jetlag was getting the best of me. I wouldn’t be able to stay awake for much longer. 

But maybe that was okay. 

I smiled a little. I couldn’t wait to fall asleep next to Bliss.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

What time was it? I had no idea. Time was a very vague concept as I slowly lifted my head from the unusual soft pillow underneath me. It took me ten seconds to remember that I was in Paris. With Bliss. 

Bliss I hadn’t touched for months. Bliss who was currently curled into my side. I slowly lifted a hand and ran my fingers through her messy curls. Next, I smoothened my hand over her shoulder. She stirred, mumbled in her sleep and I couldn’t resist to press a light kiss to her shoulder like she had done in the shower earlier. 

That little gesture was enough to wake her, and she flashed me a rather sleeping smile. But her voice was every bit audible when she said: “hey there.”

“Hey,” I said, offering a smile. 

“Mmm, what time is it?” she asked. 

“Does it matter?” I said simply. The situation had shifted. I remembered waking up after the first night we had spent together and immediately lost my nerve when I realized how late it was. Now I didn’t care what time it was. Because we had all the time in the world. 

“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Bliss agreed. 

I lifted a hand and traced my fingers along her bare arm, her shoulder and all the way to her collarbone. That prompted her to roll onto her back and flash me a little smile. 

I quickly took the hint and positioned myself on top of her. Her fingers locked in my hair as I kissed her, and she sighed softly into the kiss. I found myself to be more eager than ever before, and I didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. Bliss’ hands slid down, and I froze for just a second as she grabbed my bottom. 

Bliss snickered and broke the kiss. “Not used to that, huh?”

“No, not really,” I admitted. “But I suppose I could-“

“Get used to it?” Bliss finished the sentence and her smile was a bit cheekier now. 

I nodded and felt myself flush a little. 

She laughed as she cupped my cheek. “You don’t have to blush, Ella.” 

“I know,” I said. “But I don’t think I’m in control over it. It’s your fault, really.”

Bliss laughed again. “I think I can live with that.” 

“Good,” I said plainly, and then I dipped down to kiss her again. But this time on the top of her chest. She didn’t laugh at that. Instead she moaned slightly. 

After the months we had spent apart, I wasn’t one for wasting time. I let my lips travel down to her breast, and then I was taking her nipple between my lips. 

“Fuck, Ella!” she hissed, and her back arched. 

Perhaps I wasn’t interested in wasting time, but I wasn’t interested in rushing through this either. Bliss deserved someone who took their time with her. Someone who appreciated her. I appreciate her. So much. And I was hoping to show her just that. 

So I slowly licked her nipple, alternated between gentle sucks and soft licks, and Bliss wiggled and moaned underneath me. 

She was vocal, much more compared to me, and I silently thought to myself that I would have to learn from her. 

“Ella!”

God, the way she said my name made me feel that particular pull between my thighs once more, but I ignored it and continued to lick and suck gently at her nipple. Once she was squirming and panting underneath me, I released her nipple and then kissed the underside of her breast. I wanted to kiss all of her, and it made me feel euphoric to know that now I actually could. No more rushed meetings or stolen kisses. It was really her and me. I poured all my enthusiasm into it as I kissed her other breast. Her hands were on my back. I could feel blunt fingernails scratch my skin as I wrapped my lips around her other nipple and sucked. I wasn’t used to that either, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. She could scratch my back whenever she wanted.

I slowly kissed my way down the flat planes of her stomach, and I could feel how the muscles rippled under my lips. Her back arched once more, and now I could feel her fingers in my hair. She was lightly pulling it. I liked that too. I kissed around that little gemstone in her belly button, and I could feel her thighs twitch some at that. The sounds she were making were too beautiful to miss, so I lifted my head and looked up at her. God, she’s a vision right now. Eyes squeezed shut and lips parted. Chest rising and falling quickly with each panting breath she took. A thin sheen of sweat on her body. Her caramel skin was almost glinting. Overflowing with fondness, I reached up and cupped her cheek. She immediately put her hand over mine, and then she was moving my hand, pushing it towards her   
mouth so she could kiss my palm lightly. 

As much as I adored looking at her, I knew that it wouldn’t bring her any physical pleasure, so I quickly lowered my mouth once more. Kissed a spot just above her right hipbone, and then mouthed my way to her other hip where I found another soft spot that made her moan. Her hips rocked underneath me, and I was sure that her heels were digging into the mattress. Oh, Bliss. The things you make me feel. You’ve awakened so many things within me. You brought me back, somehow. 

When I lifted my head again it was to look at her wet center. I had touched her there before; I knew what it felt like. But now I found myself wondering what it would taste like. What she would taste like. I licked my lips and then planted another soft kiss just above her hipbone. I knew that it was something that I hadn’t tried before, and I supposed that I was slightly nervous to do it now, but my urge to pleasure her was stronger than my anxiety. It had felt wonderful when she had done it to me. If I can make her feel the same....

I took my kisses lower, brushed my lips over her inner thigh. She was so soft there. Then I slowly mouthed my way up to her sex where I hesitated for a brief moment. 

“Ella?” 

I looked up once more. Bliss’ eyes were wide and dark, and her voice was trembling some when she said: “you don’t have to... If you don’t want to...”

“You don’t want me to?” I guessed.

“Of course I do, but only if you feel comfortable doing it,” she said gently and a bit breathlessly. 

“I want too,” I said and licked my lips slightly. “But you’ll have to tell me if I do something wrong.”

Bliss smiled a little. “Whatever is gonna happen, it’s gonna be amazing, okay?” 

Her words took me back to the first night we had spent together, and I came up to kiss her lips. She immediately returned my lips and parted her lips slightly to allow my tongue access. I didn’t stop until both of us were completely breathless. I took a few seconds to catch my breath and then I kissed my way down once more. Started at her neck and mouthed my way down her breast. She moaned sharply. 

I traced my lips over the flat planes of her stomach, licked around the shimmering little gemstone in her belly button and then I was back at her abdomen. This time, I showed no hesitation as I went lower and finally swirled my tongue through her wetness for her first time. 

“Ella! Fuck!”

Her exclamation made me freeze for a split second, but then I felt her fingers in my hair again and knew that I was doing it right. The taste of her prickled on my tongue. It felt... Different. A little salty, a little sweet, perhaps even a little bit spicy. It was definitely not an unpleasant taste. I swirled my tongue once more, marveling at how slick and warm everything felt. I wondered what it would be like to slip my tongue inside her. How it would feel like to have her warm, velvety walls envelope my tongue and clench around it when she came. 

“Ella!”

Her cry brought me back, and I licked my way up to her bundle of nerves. I gave it an experimental lick, and she cried out again, back curving upwards and thighs quaking on either side of my face. I licked her again, this time with more purpose, and her legs jerked. I used the very tip of my tongue to give firm, quick licks to her clit, and for a moment it felt as though she was pulling the hair out of my head. Perhaps that should have hurt, but right now it was arousing me more than anything. Perhaps I had never tried this before, but if this was how she reacted every time... 

She moaned again, this time a bit more frustrated, and I went from licking to wrapping my lips around her clit and fully taking her into my mouth. Her moans turned into a shout at that, and the sound the hotel bed made as she arched her back, made me think of how her bed back in Vermont had creaked. 

I managed to find a rhythm that made her sound quite delirious, and I placed my hands on her thighs for support as I continued to use my lips and tongue to pleasure her. She withered underneath me. Twisted her body and then cried out again, sharp and loud and her hands fisted in my hair. Then I felt something. Her stomach muscles flexed, and her hands began trembling slightly. I knew exactly what that meant, as I knew that I shouldn’t stop now. I sped up my actions and then she let out this keening sound. I had never heard her make that sound before, and I was fascinated at how it just seemed to explode out of her throat. Unbridled and unrestrained. As an afterthought, I removed my hands from her thighs and moved them up to touch her breasts instead. Why shouldn’t I take the opportunity to touch all of her? That was what I wanted, and she certainly deserved it. She deserved to be cherished everywhere. 

She shouted again, her back arched, her fingers tugged at my hair once more, and then I felt her wetness on my chin. Now I marveled at my own abilities. I had made her come. I had made this beautiful, amazing woman come with my name on her lips. I lifted my head just in time to see her slump back against the mattress with her eyes squeezed shut. Her hair was wild, and I could see droplets of sweat gathering in the column of her throat. God, she’s beautiful. 

Bliss panted and I knew that I should give her a moment to calm down. But this experience had made me greedy and hungry for more. I was desperate to make her come one more time. I almost felt embarrassed over my carnal desire and busied myself with stroking her thigh gently while she tried to catch her breath.

Then her hands fell away from my hair, and the bed creaked slightly as her legs splayed out on either side of me. 

“Holy shit,” Bliss breathed. 

I ran a finger through my hair, licked my lips and carefully scanned her face for signs that there had been something she was dissatisfied with. 

But Bliss’ voice was all tight and breathless when she said: “I really, really hope there isn’t anybody living in the next room.”

I frowned slightly. “I did not think of that.” 

“Clearly not,” Bliss laughed. “It’s totally your fault if the whole hotel just heard me scream.”

Now I was blushing, but Bliss just laughed heartedly. “Don’t look so embarrassed, baby. That was incredible!”

“’Baby’?” I echoed, tasting the word and then smirking a little.

It was Bliss’ turn to blush. “I... Yeah. It just slipped out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said and laughed as I moved to lie next to her. “I like it. It’s sweet.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Good,” Bliss said and flashed me a little smile. 

I stretched my legs slightly. The jetlag could be compared to feeling a little a drunk. Pleasantly drunk and warm all over. 

“You are amazing,” Bliss said as she snuggled into me. 

I chuckled a little. “Careful. That can’t possible be good for my ego.”

“I don’t care,” Bliss said, and then she was slipping a hand in between my legs. I swallowed thickly and squirmed slightly at that. 

“I think it’s my turn now,” Bliss smirked. 

“Is it indeed?” 

“Mhmm.... Unless you’re too tired.” 

“I don’t think I am,” I said. Perhaps I would be afterwards, but right now, sleep was the furthest thing on my mind. 

The bed dipped slightly as Bliss positioned herself, so she was lying on top of me. I moaned a little when I felt her body against my own, and then I gently touched her cheek. Kissed her lips. How was I ever gonna get enough of her? When would my thirst for her finally be sated? I wasn’t completely sure. But maybe it didn’t matter that I couldn’t find the answer. There were far worse things to be addicted to. 

Bliss wiggled on top of me, kissed my lips, my cheek, that soft spot on my jaw. And then she was moving down, kissing my chest, scraping her teeth over my nipple. I swallowed something again and moaned. Bliss switched side, kissed my other nipple and then taking it between her teeth and sucking lightly. I briefly wondered whether it would be possible for me to come from that. My body certainly felt sensitive enough. I lifted my head to look at her as she moved down once more. Her lips were on my stomach, lightly kissing those silvery lines I were so self conscious about. But when Bliss kissed them, it felt just right. I could feel her curly hair tickling my inner thigh, and something tightened pleasantly in my stomach. I could barely recognize myself. I had gone from having little to no libido at all, and now my body reacted to the lightest touches. 

My legs jerked when I felt her hot breath on my center, and before I could even breathe her name, I felt her mouth on me. Her tongue was between my thighs, and my hands curled into fists as she swirled her tongue. It almost felt like she was teasing me a bit. My back arched at that. I felt her warm hand on my breast, and I brought my own hand down to rest it on top of hers. Her lips were on my sensitive bundle of nerves, and I hissed slightly and clenched my jaw as I felt her place a light kiss on it. God, she was incredible! I opened my mouth to tell her just that, but before I could say anything, I felt the very tip of her tongue near my entrance. A shiver ran through my body at that. I hadn’t tried that before, but I certainly felt adventurous enough to try it now. I realized that Bliss was waiting for some sort of “permission” to continue. I couldn’t speak at the moment, so I settled for giving her hand a squeezed. I hoped that was all she needed to know how I felt. 

And it was. She wasn’t in a hurry. She was clearly focusing on getting me used to the feeling as she very slowly pushed the tip of her tongue inside me. My mouth fell open and my thighs quaked. Her tongue wiggled inside me, and I didn’t dare to look down at her. I knew the sight of her between my legs would be enough to make me come on the spot. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit the inside of my cheek as she began moving her tongue inside me. It felt very different, couldn’t quite be compared to anything else, but I was beginning to realize that different was good. And this was definitely no exception! I felt the tip of her tongue brush against that spot inside me, and I had to throw my arm over my eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek again, but it was impossible to stay completely silent as she continued to stimulate me with her tongue, and when she moved her fingers down to touch my clit, a yelp escaped me. My hips moved on their own accord, rocked against her face, and my back arched once more. It was impossible to keep still when she was doing this to me. Unable to control myself, I brought one hand down and touched my breast. Tweaked the hard nipple between my fingers and thereby added to the stimulation. I felt my muscles clench dangerously around her tongue, and I moaned, partially complaining and definitely wholly expressing how good it felt. If only I hadn’t been this close already. I could almost have been upset about that, but then I remembered that we had all the time in the world. This wasn’t the last time. There would be plenty of other opportunities. 

Perhaps it was the thought of that combined with the intense pleasure that made me release a shattered little moan. I couldn’t even recognize my own voice. How could that raspy, low voice belong to me? 

Bliss answered by moving her tongue faster, rapidly thrusting in and out, hitting that spot inside me perfectly each time, her fingers moved on my clit, making tight circles on the bundle of nerve, and I couldn’t bear it for another moment. My muscles clenched around her tongue, but this time there was no stopping it! I completely unraveled and moved my hand away from my breast to squeeze the bedding as I reached that high. I heard my own voice let out a strangled moan. Words. But I had no idea what I was saying. Everything was completely blurry as I spilled over. The fire spread so intensely in my body it left me unable to breathe for a moment, and when I was able to breathe again, the air exploded out of my lungs, and my spine curved upwards for a moment, forcing me into this odd, half-sitting position before I could finally slump back against the mattress, completely spend. I couldn’t move. Not even to lift my arm from my eyes. I was still fluttering around her tongue, and I moaned again as tiny frissons of pleasure rolled through my veins. Clearly, I wasn’t quite done yet. 

I felt Bliss’ hand on my thigh. I hadn’t even noticed that she had moved her fingers from my clit. Now she was stroking my thigh. I felt a shift, and then her tongue was no longer inside me. I moaned again at the feeling of emptiness, but at the same time I was perfectly aware that I couldn’t take anymore right now. I needed to rest more than anything. 

Bliss planted a soft kiss on my thigh. Then one on my stomach, my ribs, and then the top of my chest. She mouthed her way back to my lips and then she kissed them. I returned the kiss and noted her lips tasted salty, a bit tangy. My cheeks heated up as I tasted myself on her lips. 

“You good?” Bliss asked softly and a bit hoarsely. 

I nodded vaguely. “That.... was amazing.” 

“Yes. Yes, it was,” Bliss teased. “And I made you curse.”

“What?” I slowly moved my arm away from my eyes and forced my eyes open to look at her. 

“When you came,” Bliss said and ran her fingers through my hair. “You said ‘fuck’.”

“Impossible.”

“You did,” she teased as she moved to lie next to me. 

“I refuse to believe that,” I muttered. But there was a chance she was right.

Bliss sniggered. “I made the perfect, polished British lady curse. You have no idea how triumphant I feel right now.”

Her teasing made me laugh as I pulled her into my arms. And then I teased a little myself: “well, good for you.”

“Mmm, very good for me,” Bliss chuckled. “You know what I think?”

“No, what?”

“I think we’re gonna have an amazing holiday together.” 

I gave her a little squeeze at that. “I think so too.”

“And I also think that I’m exhausted,” Bliss quipped. 

“So am I,” I admitted. 

Bliss pulled the covers over us. “How about we get a bit more sleep then? We have so many things to do tomorrow.”

“We do?”

“Mmm,” Bliss said and her coffee colored eyes gleamed. “So many things.”

I chuckled as I let the sleepiness roll over me. I could hardly wait for the “many things”.

Bliss’ legs intertwined with my own, and it didn’t take long before I could hear breath evening out and becoming slow and steady. I soon followed her, and my last thought before falling asleep was, that I couldn’t believe that I was really here. 

************************

When I woke again, I felt a bit like I had spend the night in a dryer. Most likely, it was the jetlag that made me feel a bit groggy, but I could also feel a particular dull throb between thighs. I smiled a little as I opened my eyes. I didn’t mind that one bit.

The bed was incredibly warm, but also quite empty. Where was Bliss? I lifted my head to look for her, and it didn’t take me long to find exactly who I was looking for. Bliss was standing on the little balcony. She was wearing a white robe. Like she so often was. I chuckled slightly. 

Bliss heard me and turned around. She smiled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I said and stretched my legs slightly. “What time is it?”

“It’s really early,” Bliss said.

“Then how come you’re up?”

She ignored that. “Come and see this. Come on. Hurry.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” I said as I stumbled out of bed. 

“That’s what she said.”

I made a sound between a chuckle and a scoff as I ran a finger through my mussed hair. It didn’t take me long to realize that there only was one robe available, so in lack of any better suggestions, I ended up grabbing the duvet and wrapping it around me. 

“Hurry,” Bliss said again. 

I raised an eyebrow at her bossiness, but I nevertheless crossed the floor and walked out on the balcony where she was standing. 

“Look at that,” Bliss said and nodded towards the horizon. 

I followed her gaze, and now I fully understood why she had been bossy. I had never seen such a beautiful sunrise before. The sky was red and orange and the light was reflected in the Eiffel Tower we could see from our balcony. 

Bliss’ fingers slipped in between mine, and she turned her head slightly so she could rest it on my shoulder. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

“It is,” I nodded. And it was. But I could think of something that was more beautiful. Or someone. I squeezed her fingers slightly and lifted my arm to wrap it around her. Her curls were tickling my cheek because of the way she was resting her head on my shoulder, and I found it to be absolutely perfect. 

“I love you,” I said softly. 

Her head whipped up at that, and the movement was so quick I almost ended up with her hair in my mouth. I chuckled. 

“I love you too,” she beamed. 

I sighed softly as I gave her another soft squeeze. No words were required right now. We were here, we were together, and everything was perfect. I knew that things probably wouldn’t stay as rosy. 

Eventually, we would hurt each other, but I firmly believed that our love was strong enough to move past that. 

When we got back from Paris there would be many things to think about. Introducing Bliss and Lucas to each other. Lucas and I moving away to New York. A possible new career for me. And Bliss would come to New York too. She’d had enough of Vermont, she claimed. Who knew, perhaps we could live in the same building. I hoped so. I reminded myself to ask Louis Abbott if he knew of a place Bliss could rent. A place where she could make her pottery and sell it. That kind of talent shouldn’t be reserved for her basement only. 

I sighed softly once more. A year ago I had been a woman bored out of her mind. A woman desperately searching for something that could fill her day. That desperation had made her attend an art lesson. Just to see if it was something. 

And now... Now I had gained a completely new life. A different life. A life I had never even dared hoping for. I couldn’t wait to see what it had in store for me. 

The beautiful woman next to me lifted her head and looked up at me. She smiled warmly at me. 

I returned her smile. Somehow, I had found the one thing I didn’t even know I had been looking for. 

“Everything okay?” she asked me. 

“Yes,” I said and nodded. Everything was more than okay. 

Everything I wanted was right here next to me. My smiled widened, and a chuckle escaped me. 

A year ago, I had been searching for something I didn’t even know what was, and now....

Now I had found bliss. Quite literally. 

The End.


End file.
